


Not what we have, but what we enjoy, constitutes our abundance

by BlossomsintheMist



Series: How to Communicate Effectively [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Armor Kink, BDSM, Bottom Steve, Bottom Steve Rogers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom Tony, Dom Tony Stark, Dom/sub, Edging, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Naked Cuddling, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Post-Coital Cuddling, Rimming, Sub Steve, Sub Steve Rogers, Top Tony, Top Tony Stark, fluffy sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 20:22:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15648270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: Sometime after getting together after the events of Dark Reign and Siege and Steve's return from the dead, Steve and Tony plan out a more elaborate intimate encounter, one that involves the Bleeding Edge armor and a good deal of spare time.





	Not what we have, but what we enjoy, constitutes our abundance

**Author's Note:**

> So I first wrote this fic in early 2014, but for a variety of reasons, I didn't post it then. I decided to fix it up and post it now, though. So if this seems a little different from my most recent work, well, it's because I wrote it four years ago! Also, this is a sequel to The Single Biggest Problem With Communication, so it's based off of the relationship established in that fic, but if you haven't read it, that shouldn't be too much of a problem - just know that Steve and Tony got together and already worked out a few issues in doing so.

When Tony pushed, nudged him downward, Steve went easily onto his back in the bed, big warm arms still wrapped tightly around Tony’s waist as they kissed, lips soft and damp and clinging to each other’s mouths. It was hard to pull away from those kisses, hard to really think about anything else, and even though Tony had so many other things in mind for them to do, he found himself getting lost in the kisses anyway, letting other considerations fade away so he could just focus on lying there between Steve’s legs, pressing those kisses back into Steve’s lips and velvet-warm mouth, soft and slow and thorough. He wasn’t in a big rush to go ahead, anyway, more than a little nervous, ideas spilling over in his mind even as he skimmed his hands down over Steve’s sides, rubbed his thumbs over his nipples. All the things he could do, and all the reasons he shouldn’t do them, things Steve wouldn’t, might not, like, or might take the wrong way, or just not enjoy, ways he could hurt him, all the reasons to never, ever do this—anything like this—anything that could ever hurt Steve, and how could he even be considering—

 

Steve’s hands came up, skimmed up over Tony’s back to his shoulders, then up to frame Tony’s face, and he pulled away from the kiss, eyes bright with that enthusiastic glow that matched the flush on his skin, one that Tony was becoming more and more familiar with the longer they did this together. “So, are we going to do this thing?” he asked, wide warm palms curving against Tony’s jaw.

 

Tony swallowed. His hands felt very sweaty and hot where they were resting on Steve’s chest, against his sides. He tried to get hold of himself, play it off with a joke. “We’re not already doing it?” he tried with a teasing grin. “I mean here we are, in bed, and I thought . . . .”

 

“Well, I guess we are,” Steve said. “But I was kinda thinkin’ you had a little more in mind.” He let himself go flat against the bed, wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck and smiling up at him.

 

Tony let himself be pulled down by that grip, braced himself with his forearms on the bed just above Steve’s shoulders. “I might,” he said. “I might.” He smiled, brushed a brief kiss over Steve’s lips. “Maybe if you ask nice.” Steve wanted this, he reminded himself. Steve had asked. More than once.

 

Steve’s eyes slipped nearly closed, just a little arc of blue almost covered by his thick light eyelashes, as he smiled up at Tony for that. “I’m asking nice,” he murmured, quiet, and gripped his shoulders a little more tightly. “Tony, please?”

 

“Please . . .” Tony said, letting his lips play over Steve’s, barely touching them, their breath mingling warm between their mouths. “Please what, honey?”

 

Steve laughed a little, quietly. “You’re such a goddamn tease,” he said.

 

Tony smiled, though he could still feel that anxiety twisting up inside him, settling into a heavy ball in the pit of his stomach. “Guilty as charged, Commander Rogers,” he admitted, curling his fingers down into Steve’s hair.

 

“Don’t even try to deny it,” Steve said. He pulled Tony closer still, pressed his lips against his jaw, into the soft place where it met his ear, into his hair. “Please, Tony,” he said, voice soft over the words like he wanted to handle them gently, carefully, quiet and a little raspy. “Do . . . what we talked about. Tell me what to do. Take charge of me. Do whatever you want to me. Please. Please, I want you to.”

 

Tony swallowed, trying to deny the heady wash of heat that sent through him, the way it settled in his stomach, hot and wanting. “I’ve got a little more planned for you than just taking charge,” he said, and watched Steve suck in his breath, then smile. “I’ve got pretty big plans this time, actually,” he said, letting his hands wander down over Steve’s chest, play over his nipples and his frankly ridiculous pectorals until Steve shifted, arching up into the touch, then moved them further down over Steve’s hard, flat stomach to fit his fingers into the dips of his hips, the creases of his pelvis, smooth down his the sensitive skin of his thighs.

 

“Please,” Steve said again, shivering under the touches already, not quite pressing up into them. “Tony, I’m yours.” He smiled a little, despite the flush already covering him, showing bright in his cheeks. “C’mon, buster, get to it.”

 

“Oh, not ravishing you quick enough for your taste?” Tony asked, trying to keep his tone teasing, knowing. He had to swallow again, trying to moisten his dry mouth. What he really wanted to do was to ask Steve specifically about each and every action he was considering, but there were certain things he was almost positive Steve would like that Tony wanted to be a surprise. “You’re sure you want to do this, right?” Tony pressed, even though he felt stupid for bringing it up again.

 

Steve blew his breath out, almost frustrated, almost, not quite, but almost, pouting, Tony thought, his brow crinkling. “Tony, we’ve been _over this_ ,” he said. He didn’t say, _ten thousand times_ , but he didn’t need to, Tony could hear it in his voice. “I gave you permission. I’m giving you permission. I trust you not to do anything I don’t want. I know you, remember.”

 

Tony took a deep breath. Steve always said that like knowing Tony, really knowing him, was a good thing, made him trustworthier somehow. Like that made any sense at all, that knowing Tony would be the _reason_ for Steve’s trust, and not a counterargument. Especially after everything they’d been through, everything—everything Tony had done. Especially the things he couldn’t really remember. “And what I said about rimming, and anal. And what you said—when you asked about—I mean, when you asked me about the armor being on the table someday.” Steve’s eyes went wide, and he sucked in his breath, gasping a little. Tony didn’t stop. “And the coming more than once thing. And me holding you down—you know if I push you I don’t really mean it, any of it, unless I tell you I love you, because I—I always mean that, and—”

 

Steve’s face had been growing steadily more flushed, but at that, he smiled again, steadyingly, and touched Tony’s biceps with both hands, squeezing a little. “Tony,” he said. “I know.”

 

“Right,” Tony said, blowing his breath out. Stupid. He was being stupid. He nodded, smiled again. “Right,” he said, and leaned back down, moving one hand to brace it against Steve’s jaw, turning Steve’s head gently but insistently into the kiss. He licked into Steve’s mouth, taking what Steve offered the moment he offered it with the soft sweet parting of his lips, sliding his tongue into his mouth, turning the kiss sexual, seizing, possessive of Steve’s yielding and generosity, catching him up in that heat, then ran one hand back into his hair, dug it in, gripping against his head, the back of his neck, holding him still for it, despite Steve’s lack of struggle and in fact his willing, open eagerness.

 

Steve just melted into it, went almost limp, but arched up into it all the same, his hands skimming softly down Tony’s back to settle loosely at his hips, not pulling him closer so much as just holding on, his mouth softening under Tony’s and his legs splaying open just that little bit more, easy as anything. _I’ve got you_ , Tony wanted to say against his mouth, _this is going to be good, so good, I really think you’re going to love it_ —but that wasn’t really what he was doing here. Instead he just said, “Remember your colors, Steve,” and bit lightly at his jaw.

 

Steve made a face, because he always kind of did, at being reminded of a safe word. Tony really wished he could get him to see what they were for, because it wasn’t going to happen if Steve thought about it that way. But he still said, “Got it,” all low and quiet.

 

“Good boy,” Tony told him, pushing hair back off his forehead now. He liked it, that Steve was growing it out a little—it gave him a firmer handhold, for one thing, and it was so soft under his fingers.

 

Steve chewed on his lower lip a little, let his breath out in a sigh. Tony kissed him again, one more time, sucking a tiny bit roughly on that bottom lip, until Steve squirmed a little, twitching his hips up—then took his shoulders, tapped him on the back of one of them, using his chance to get a good look at his eyes. He looked hazy, dreamy, but still pretty alert. The way he was looking at Tony was . . . it was nice, though. It made his stomach turn over a little, nervous little flutters settle in behind the RT in his chest, but . . . it was nice. Made his stomach feel warm. “Let’s get you turned over,” he said.

 

“Yessir,” Steve said, pushing himself up, then turning over easily, as always so graceful despite his size that it took Tony’s breath away. He settled onto his hands and knees, and Tony took hold of his hips, leaning in to lay kisses down his back, between his shoulder blades. He could see Steve’s cock already hard and dripping a little precome beneath his legs, which wasn’t a surprise, Steve got ready to go so fast. Instead of commenting on it, he rubbed at Steve’s hips, thumbing over the graceful arch of his hipbones, into the hollows, the little dimples they left just above his ass, left kisses down his spine, interspersed with bites, licks. Steve always tasted so good. After a while, he moved his hands up again along Steve’s sides, to pinch and play with his nipples, and Steve gasped a little, gave a little whine through his nose. Tony squeezed them harder, and Steve shivered.

 

He liked being hurt a little, Tony knew that, but it was so damn hard to bring himself to hurt him. This, though, he could do. They both knew it didn’t really hurt Steve at all, but Tony’s grip was easily strong enough to make Steve whine and shiver, rock back and forth just a little, as if he didn’t quite want to get away from it, just like he was doing now. Tony nosed up along the back of his neck, into his hair, bit down on the lobe of his ear, and Steve gasped, dropped his head down.

 

Gorgeous. He was so gorgeous, so damn ridiculously beautiful. He still couldn’t believe he wanted him, of all people, to do this to him. Tony pressed his lips to the place just behind Steve’s ear where he could feel his pulse, dragged his teeth over it before pressing a real kiss there, still tugging at Steve’s nipples, closed his eyes and just let himself listen to the beat of it, just for a second. After another moment, he let go his grip on Steve’s chest, just ran his thumbs over nipples that felt warm now, would be sore and sensitive at least for another second. Steve was really shuddering now, his breath coming faster and more ragged, which Tony took as a good sign, usually how he sounded when he was getting into it. His erection was even more ruddy and proud, standing up between his legs, which was a good sign, too. Tony cupped his hands over Steve’s pecs and ground the heels of his hands into those sore nipples, digging his fingers into his muscles firmly enough to hurt—to bruise, if he’d been someone else—above them. “Nice rack,” he teased, right into Steve’s ear.

 

“Tony,” Steve said, huffy but low, blowing his breath out.

 

“Aww, what, you don’t like me calling ‘em that?” Tony asked, bit his ear again.

 

“’S not gentlemanly,” Steve said, and Tony thought he was grinning, “you wouldn’t say that to a lady, I hope.”

 

“Sure I would,” Tony said. “Nothing wrong with saying a girl has a nice chest. Or a nice ass. Or nice legs. Or all of the above, which you do. Not by the time she’s in bed with you like this, anyway. As long as you appreciate a few other features.”

 

“Like my dick?” Steve asked, laughing now, and Tony couldn’t help it, he had to laugh too.

 

“One of the very many, cupcake,” he said, biting lightly at the back of his neck, still rubbing his hands there in the same slow, dragging, almost rough motions, because Steve was still trembling, his cock jerking, and Tony could see him practically melting under the stimulation, however he tried to stay quiet and still and upright, his chest growing heavier and heavier as he pressed more weight down against Tony’s hands.

 

“’S long as you like my personality, too,” Steve said, and Tony thought it was supposed to be a snarky joke, but it came out adorably dreamy and floaty, almost sulky.

 

He couldn’t give a teasing answer to that, he pressed a kiss against the sensitive skin of the nape of Steve’s neck and murmured, “Love it, honey, you know that.”

 

Steve blushed bright red and huffed out his breath and let his head hang down even more, and Tony smiled. “Just so long as you do,” Steve said, still all huffy, and Tony just grinned, went back to teasing Steve’s nipples with his thumbs, until he was squirming, noticeably now, in Tony’s arms, twitching his hips and shifting on his knees.

 

“I swear I do,” Tony said, “I really, really do; my aesthetic appreciation and occasional objectification of your ridiculously gorgeous body are just perks.” He tweaked Steve’s nipple, teasingly, then skimmed his hand down over his side, quick, to grab the curve of his ass and squeeze, digging his thumb into the crease enough to brush it against Steve’s hole. Steve bit back a yelp, shuddered all over. “Extras,” Tony said, whispering in Steve’s ear. “Great extras, sure, but not the main attraction.” He knew Steve didn’t really mind, but he thought Steve felt a little weird about people praising a body he hadn’t exactly been born with, sometimes. When he told Steve he was beautiful, Tony meant all of him—Steve the person—but sometimes he wanted to push on that little bit of an issue, because Steve shouldn’t have to be insecure that Tony just loved him for the pretty body he’d ended up having, gorgeous as it was. That wasn’t it at all. He shouldn’t have to worry about that.

 

Steve was Steve, no matter what body he was in. And Tony would have been perfectly happy to do this for him, and with him, with the body he’d had before.

 

And Tony bet he’d had sensitive nipples before, too, the way he reacted. Some things didn’t change that much. He rubbed Steve’s ass a little, teasingly massaging it, as Steve shuddered at the touch, breath coming hard and fast now. Tony pinched his ass, very lightly, and grinned at the outraged yelp that left Steve’s lips, followed by an annoyed, “ _Tony_.”

 

“Hey,” Tony said, “your ass is just very pinchable, peaches.”

 

“That’s—no excuse,” Steve said, with a gasp for breath in between the words, and Tony smiled, rubbed his thumb over the place he’d pinched, then leaned in, pressed his lips to it, opened his mouth and swirled his tongue over it, then sucked lightly. Steve’s arms trembled.

 

“No,” Tony agreed. “I’m not making any excuses for what I decide to do to you today, baby boy. Thought I didn’t have to. You being mine and all.”

 

“Yours,” Steve said, quick and almost breathy. “I am yours. Yes.”

 

“Mmm, good,” Tony said, and bit just a little at that same place, the firm, smooth skin there, before he straightened up, skimmed his hands up Steve’s back. “Look at all this,” he teased. “So much to work with. What should I do to you first?”

 

“Looking for suggestions?” Steve asked, looking back at him with one eyebrow raised. Mouthy bastard. Tony kind of loved it.

 

“Nope,” he said, cheerfully. “Rhetorical question. Like I said, I’ve got my own plan. _All_ planned out. Lie down there, sweetie, on your front, there you go, like a good boy, that’s it.” He pushed Steve down, hands on his shoulders, as Steve settled himself down onto his chest. Tony was kind of hoping his nipples and pecs were still raw, though it was totally possible that Steve’s body had dealt with the pain already. But Steve hissed a bit, and flushed all down his shoulders and back, so Tony figured they must still be sore. Steve’s cock slid a little awkwardly, all messy and wet, over the blanket, and Steve shifted his hips what had to be three or four times to get it to lie flat under his stomach, but he didn’t rub up against the bedspread, which was a show of self-control Tony was going to be certain to reward him for later. He moved his hands down, rubbed them both over Steve’s ass, then smacked him one, hard enough to leave a mark. Steve gave an oof of surprise, accompanied by a low noise that was loud for him, his hands clenching into the bedspread. Tony smacked him again, and his breath hitched, his hips going in an almost desperate circle, as he panted, before he stilled them again with what looked like an effort.

 

“What was that for?” he gasped after a moment.

 

“Nothing much,” Tony said nonchalantly, “though if you have any ideas about why you might need a spanking, baby, feel free to share. Like I said, your ass just looks so pretty and available.” He squeezed the place he’d hit and heard Steve’s breath shudder. Smacking Steve’s ass was an experience, for sure—he was so firm and muscular it almost made Tony’s hand hurt, which actually kind of made things fun, despite the twinge of guilt he always felt when he laid a hand on him like that. He rubbed his thumb into the mark, more gently.

 

“Available for whatever you want,” Steve mumbled, pulling his arms up and pushing his head into them.

 

He was really adorable, sometimes—well, always, really, but God, at times like this, it was kind of hard to handle, almost too much, all that sincerity coupled with the straightforward, sweet eagerness that starting coming to the surface when he was starting to sink.

 

“What _ever_ I want,” Tony teased. “Hmm.” He squeezed both sides of Steve’s ass with his hands, then pulled them apart, exposing the line of his body, the furl of his hole, down to his heavy balls. He made a show of looking at him, and Steve’s blush started to deepen, traveling down his back. “Well, that’s quite the offer, gorgeous.”

 

“Take your time,” Steve said, though he’d gone even redder.

 

“Snarky,” Tony replied, smiling. “Maybe you do want a real spanking after all.” He squeezed Steve’s ass a little more, then shifted his hand, trailed one finger down the center of his body, left it there, resting over his hole, gently, obscurely, teasing.

 

“Mmmh,” Steve said, and pressed his face further into his arms.

 

“Is that a yes or a no?” Tony said, pretending to ponder, tracing his finger around Steve’s hole, teasingly. “All clenched up tight, aren’t you? Well, we’ll see what we can do about that, won’t we, baby?” He skimmed his hand down between Steve’s thighs, then reached up over Steve’s pelvis to take hold of Steve’s cock, pull it down between his legs.

 

Steve gave a low groaning noise, tossed his head against his arms, trembling. He spread his legs further apart without being prompted, his shoulders working, bunching up around his ears. Tony gave him a slow, easy stroke, loving the way his flush spread, the way he groaned and rocked up a little, then pressed his hips down, into the bed, as if that would help him get more pleasure faster, the way his fingers dug, curling, into the bedspread. His cock was very hot in Tony’s hand, hard and thick and messy with the precome he’d been leaking for a while now. “Hmm, someone’s been eager,” Tony teased him. “I guess you have been a good boy, waiting all patiently.”

 

Steve nodded as if he agreed with that, and Tony bit back a grin even as Steve went still again, biting his lip. “’S your call,” Steve said, “not mine.” He hesitated a moment, then rolled his hips, let his breath out in frustration, again, and said, tightly, “but you sure are taking your time.”

 

“Taking it slow is good, too, honey,” Tony said, chidingly gripping his cock even tighter. “Besides, it’s my prerogative, here.”

 

“That’s true,” Steve said, just a touch unwillingly.

 

“That’s my good boy,” Tony said, “don’t forget that, now,” and gave him another stroke of his cock. Steve hissed, legs twitching, and pressed his face into the bed, panting heavily. Tony kept that up for a bit, slowly stroking Steve’s cock, with breaks in between when he just held it, wet and messy and hot in his hand, using the other to rub up and down over Steve’s spine, down over his ass, teasing him about how red he’d gone all over. Steve didn’t complain, even though before long his breath was whining in his throat, just pressed his head tight into his arms and gripped the bedspread tightly with his fingers.

 

“Okay,” Tony said, after enough time doing that it had felt long even to him, and no doubt like an eternity to Steve (even though it was so damn nice to rub his hand up and down over Steve’s cock, it was so perfectly slick and so big and heavy in his hand, soft skin and hard flesh and Steve twitching and gasping with every stroke), “let’s open you up, baby boy.” Steve’s head came up, he made a surprised, confused noise, and then Tony was spreading his ass apart again, putting his mouth right on his hole and laving his tongue over it. He dug his fingers into Steve’s skin, holding him open as he flicked his tongue over the surface of Steve’s hole, feeling the puckered skin there under the slide of it, feeling Steve shiver, jolt, hearing him cry out.

 

“Tony,” he said, then, “Oh, my God. Oh, my _God_.” Tony could hear him panting. “You—I—I can’t—you—with your—” he trailed off.

 

“Sure I can,” Tony said, blowing hot breath over the now slick, wet surface of Steve’s hole, watching him tremble and gasp, hips rolling desperately, eagerly, even as his muscles twitched. “You’ve been in me, I’ve been in you, what’s a little more, right, sugar?”

 

“It’s just,” Steve said, and pushed his head down. Tony waited, but Steve apparently wasn’t able to come up with what it was just. Tony traced his thumb through the wetness around Steve’s hole from his own saliva, felt him shiver even as he gave a low cry.

 

“Good or bad?” Tony asked. Steve blew out a breath shakily.

 

“A little overwhelming,” he said, truthfully. “Good, I think. I—” he swallowed, whispered, “I want more. If—if that’s okay.”

 

“It would be my pleasure, darling,” Tony drawled, then moved his hand back up to spread Steve apart, licked another pass over his hole. Steve trembled under the touch. He was usually responsive, but this, a shiver or gasp with every touch, was intense even for him. Tony nuzzled in closer, knowing his facial hair had to be scratchy against the sensitive skin of Steve’s ass, his balls and perineum, but Steve was trembling, still, in a good way, so he didn’t worry about it, just teased over his hole again with his tongue. Steve moaned. Something had him on edge, and Tony didn’t think it was just the sensations of it—maybe the idea that it was something a little forbidden, maybe the unfamiliarity of this sort of penetration. But that was good, that was perfect, in fact, so he kept licking at him, teasing and sucking a little, now, easing one hand down so that he could swipe his thumb over the same place, moving the other forward to curl back around Steve’s cock. It was hot and heavy and leapt under his touch, and Steve gave a ragged, harsh little gasp of surprise.

 

“Shh,” Tony murmured, knowing the sound would shiver against Steve’s ass, vibrate against his skin, and sure enough, Steve shook all over when he said it, panting, his legs wobbling just a touch. Tony squeezed his cock, a little, but didn’t move his hand, just holding him, settling his hand at the base, heel of it steady against Steve’s balls, like he was using that hold to keep Steve conveniently still for him to lick and tease at his ass, to lick him open.

 

He was feeling pretty hot now, himself, cock aching and hard and demanding attention in the back of his mind, but Steve was so absorbing, so easy to get lost in, in all the little shivers and twitches of muscle and sounds and noises he made. Just looking at him, touching him, felt so intense that it was easy to push Tony’s own erection to the back of his mind, even as Steve’s reactions, his gasps and tremors and tiny movements, went straight to Tony’s cock, hot and aching. He pushed that thumb resting against Steve’s hole into him, very lightly, and used it to pull his hole wide—Steve whimpered at that, and then gave a gasping little moan when Tony pushed his tongue inside him after it. He was always so quiet in bed, especially at first, that hearing that, any voice to his gasps at all, hit Tony hard, jolted through him straight to his groin, settled hot in his stomach.

 

Jesus.

 

He couldn’t help himself; he tightened his hand on Steve’s dick, just a bit, just to hear him groan again, and he did, shuddering, muscles bunching and shifting. He panted, loudly, but he didn’t pull away, just let Tony continue to hold him still and steady, continue to lick into him, lick him slick and open and wet. It was different, being inside Steve this way. He couldn’t get deep, for one thing, of course, but feeling the heat of Steve’s body, his skin, under his tongue, fiery hot and velvet-smooth, was something else, too, was amazing, absolutely amazing, feeling him inside with his mouth in the most intimate way Tony could honestly think of, and the way Steve trembled around him, the way he gasped and shook all over and rolled his hips up and back, nudged himself desperately up against Tony’s hand, then stilled, and then started all over again . . . holy shit about covered it, Tony thought.

 

Steve’s cock was so warm against his fingers, and he couldn’t resist stroking the underside a little with his thumb, teasing it against Steve’s balls, just the tiniest bit, the skin so soft and pliable over such hard steely heat, the way Steve’s cock quivered and jerked under his touch, just as absorbing in a whole different way. He was so hot, inside and out, so smooth and warm, both inside and under the touch of Tony’s hand to the sensitive flesh of his cock. Tony spared enough thought to squeeze him a little, warningly, whenever he was getting too squirmy, and Steve would let his breath out low and rough, hard, and go still. His gasps in between were getting a little more high-pitched, though, Steve’s voice never quite all the way behind them or breaking into a higher register, but needier, more desperate, every time Tony gave him a long slow lick, or twisted his tongue inside him, like just those hot, wet touches took him apart more than a thrust all the way to his core would have.

 

The way Steve was reacting, this was going to push him down fast, for sure. That was probably good, Tony thought, moving his thumb a little, along the inside of Steve’s rim, petting gently, teasingly, as he continued to lick and suck at him. Steve whimpered, again, voice breaking on a huff of air, and it was like Tony’s whole world had focused in to be defined by Steve’s warm body, the soft fluttering clasp of his muscles around Tony’s tongue (relaxed now, he could tell, since Steve clenched down _hard_ when he was tense), the little gasps and groans over air Steve made, the heat of his cock against his hand.

 

He was beautiful, so gorgeous, just the little grunts and the slight sounds he made at each teasing stroke of Tony’s tongue, his gasps and groans and shivers and how he sounded almost surprised as he shook with that and his own pleasure, were so gorgeous Tony could barely breathe for it. He was so amazing, and sometimes Tony was still blown away that he got to touch him like this, wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to be given something, someone, this incredible at all.

 

Steve deserved everything. Everything Tony could ever give him, could have given him, and more, even more than that.

 

He licked and sucked at Steve inside until he was wet and dripping with Tony’s saliva, certainly more open and relaxed than he had been before, and then sat up, rubbing his own wet, spit-slick face against his forearm and patting Steve’s desperately hard cock with his hand (sending it jerking up desperately into Steve’s stomach, leaking precome all over him as well as the bed, which Tony pretended to ignore), before he brought that hand away and slid two fingers of it into Steve, not deep, but certainly far enough that Steve could feel it. Steve moaned, body clutching wet and warm around Tony’s fingers, his breath hitching, red all over and trembling, hips making those needy circles again, and he spread his legs slightly. “Tony,” he said, all breathy and hoarse.

 

“Yes, soldier?” Tony said, moving his fingers slightly, just enough to tease, feeling the damp, clenching warmth of Steve inside. He was definitely relaxed, more open than he had been; his muscles were soft, welcoming and clinging against the gentle press in of Tony’s fingers.

 

“I don’t know,” Steve said. “I . . .” he panted for breath.

 

“Moving right along,” Tony said, rubbing Steve’s hip gently as he withdrew his fingers. Steve huffed out his breath, groaned a little, but didn’t protest, even though he had to be awfully close now, and they’d established a while ago that he could easily come from anal stimulation alone. “There,” Tony said, patting his ass. “That’s nice, that’s more how you should be when we’re like this. Relaxed, worked open. Wet.”

  
Steve sucked in his breath at that.

 

“You’re gonna want to get up on your hands and knees, apple pie,” Tony said, keeping his hand on Steve’s hip, helping to steady him with the other as he swayed up to his hands, then knees, groaning a little, but still obedient. His cock was very, very hot and heavy between his legs now, hot and heavy and red. Tony stroked Steve’s back for a bit, soothing him, helping him settle, he hoped. “That’s good, God, you’re good,” he said. “Now just stay like that for me for a while. Just for a while, I promise.”

 

“Tony?” Steve said questioningly, raising his head, looking for him. Tony pushed his head back down again, gently but firmly.

 

“Stay, sweetiepie,” he said. “Just like that. That’s good. Won’t be long. Promise. Swear to God.”

 

And he really didn’t intend to be, even if he did have an ulterior motive in leaving him. Sure, he wanted to brush his teeth, wash his mouth out, but there was another reason, too. Leaving Steve to wait for a moment, to hold still and be good, would hopefully make the surprise he had in mind even more, well, surprising.

 

Hopefully. Tony made for the bathroom quickly, despite the ache of his own cock between his legs, which he did his best to ignore, and used the time he spent washing his hands, brushing his teeth and washing his mouth out, to go over the coding for his failsafes, one more time, the checklist he’d made for himself, every inch of code, the modifications that would make the repulsors harmless, unable to fire, all the programming. Everything should be okay. He’d written the coding fresh from the ground up, hadn’t left anything to chance, it was all new, adapted specifically to this, especially to _Steve_ , everything Tony knew about Steve, his body, his reactions, in bed and elsewhere. He’d run hundreds, more than that, approaching thousands, of simulations, even ones with the armor actually out. There was no way Steve was getting hurt.

 

He just wished he could convince himself of that. Quiet the voice in the back of his head that said, _Goddamnit all, Stark, what are you doing using one of the most dangerous things you’ve ever built as a sex toy_.

 

 _Making Steve happy_ , he told that voice. _So you can shut up_.

 

He hoped this would make Steve happy. He dried his hands and hurried back to him. He didn’t want to leave him too long. Tony didn’t . . . like being left, when he was subbing himself.

 

Steve was still kneeling where he’d put him, breathing a little unsteadily, erection still needy and thick between his legs. His eyes were closed. Tony knelt beside him, put one hand on his shoulder, very lightly, to let him know he was back, then kissed the place just in between his shoulder blades. “I’m back,” he said.

 

“Ah,” Steve said, a little unevenly. “Mmm. Tony.” His eyes slid open again, fluttered a little. Tony smiled at him, leaned in to kiss him, very softly, skimmed his hand down over his back.

 

He knew enough about Steve, and how his subspace worked, to know that he probably wasn’t down as deep as he seemed. He was often pretty sweet and docile in general once he started getting into his space, once they started, despite the smart-assed mouth, unless he dug his heels in early, but he was still entirely capable of getting stubborn, of attitude surging back with a vengeance, for a long time after he’d gone mostly pliant and easy. Tony figured it was because Steve wanted to submit, really, when they did this, but it was so hard for him to let go of his control after a lifetime of it, a lifetime of fighting, of proving himself, that he couldn’t quite give it up without a fight. So you got him trying to give in, but still resisting down deep, underneath.

 

That was fine, Tony knew all about control issues. Sometimes he didn’t push Steve hard enough to really come up against that point, sometimes he just kept it easy and soft and undemanding. Because Steve got a lot out of that, too, and it was easier, less terrifying, for Tony, at least.

 

But Tony had the idea now. What Steve really wanted from him with this was to be pushed, to be overwhelmed, to be taken apart. And, well, even if Tony didn’t entirely trust himself to do that—Steve did, and that was what really mattered. Even if Tony had no idea _why_ he did, or how he could—that was why they were here.

 

He pulled away from the soft touch of their lips despite the way Steve leaned into it, mouth open and eager for more. Instead he moved to press kisses down over Steve’s shoulder, down the middle of his back. “How are you feeling?” he asked, softly, teasing his hands down Steve’s sides, smoothing his fingers over the smooth contours of his muscles, tucking them into the inside curves of his pelvis and hips and stroking there but avoiding his cock. He held him there for a moment and Steve blew his breath out but didn’t struggle, didn’t try to push his cock against Tony’s hands.

 

There was a moment of silence, as if Steve were struggling to think. “Hot,” he said, finally. “God, Tony, I—well, I dunno. Needy. Like I want you to . . . well, you know. And a little empty, since you stuck your fingers in me. Still a little—open, I guess, back there. And damp.” He laughed a little. “Mostly, really needy for you,” he said, quietly.

 

God. That hit Tony surprisingly deeply, it was so blunt, Steve’s words a little hazy, a little wandering, but so honest, and he hid own his gasp against Steve’s shoulder, moving his hands up over his chest again. “Well, I’m here, honey,” he said against his skin.

 

“Yeah, I _know_ ,” Steve said, and shoved him a little with his shoulder, laughing. Tony smiled at that, too.

 

“Patience, patience,” he said.

 

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “But . . . yeah, really, I know you’re here. You wouldn’t leave me like this. You’ve got me. I . . . know that.”

 

“Right,” Tony whispered, against his shoulder. “Exactly. I’ve got you, baby.”

 

“Mmhmm,” Steve said, and he sounded contented, now, at that. Tony swallowed, hard, pressed another soft kiss in just under Steve’s hairline, against the back of his neck, out of pure feeling.

 

He followed it with more kisses, down Steve’s spine, slow and dragging and soft, kept at that for a while, really, rubbing at his chest, pressing kisses along his back. Steve’s back was spectacular, anyway, the interplay of muscles, the strength in it like a work of art, and it deserved to be appreciated.

 

And maybe if Tony needed some time to work up to what he was planning on doing . . . well, it wasn’t like working Steve up slow was going to hurt him, either.

 

After a good long time, teasing and touching, making Steve squirm under him, arch his back, lift his head and gasp for air, gorgeous muscles rolling and working as he shifted back and forth, his whole body so graceful and fluid and hot beneath the touch of Tony’s mouth and hands (like watching calculus come to life, Tony thought, a little lightheaded), Tony decided there was no way he could really justify putting the rest of what he had planned off any longer. He took a deep breath, then lifted his head, still stroking Steve’s back lightly with one hand, and leaned forward to cover Steve’s eyes with the other.

 

Steve sucked in his breath immediately, and Tony could see his cock jerk between his legs. Well, so far, so good. “Tony?” he said. His voice sounded spacey, a little breathless, surprised.

 

“Mmhmm, baby boy?” Tony asked.

 

“You covered my eyes,” Steve said on a little bit of a laugh, the words just slightly hazy.

 

“Yep, sure did,” Tony said, stroking Steve’s back a little more with his other hand, from the back of his neck down his spine, over his side, still keeping his palm pressed tightly to his eyes. “Master of the obvious,” he teased gently. “You like it?”

 

“Gosh, Tony,” Steve said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and gave another little laugh. “Y’gotta ask?”

 

“Humor me,” Tony said, smiling, rubbing slow circles into his back now. Steve sighed and relaxed under them, muscles going loose and pliant, though he kept his position on his hands and knees, letting himself shift a little, back and forth, with the touches.

 

“It’s swell,” Steve said, still rather breathlessly. “I—I really like it, Tony. It’s a little—it’s.” He stopped. “Yeah,” he said, more quietly, then, just as Tony was about to answer him, he gave another little chuckle. “Hell, you’ve got me all worked up, can’t hardly think at all. What comes next?”

 

“I decide what you get to see or not from here on out,” Tony said. “That sound good to you, soldier?”

 

“Yessir,” Steve said, even more quietly, almost a breath. That, Tony thought, was a good sign, that and the way his voice trembled, just a little. He put his other hand on the small of Steve’s back, feeling how hot his skin felt, and yes, damp, whether the trembling was in his own fingers or Steve’s skin, he wasn’t sure now, and pulled his hand just barely away from Steve’s eyes. He didn’t want to catch his eyelashes, didn’t want to risk his eyes.

 

He took a deep breath and armored up.

 

Watching the metal links unfold and slide up his arm, snapping together, was almost surreal, doing it like this, with Steve naked and sweaty and breathing heavily right there, his dick as hard as a rock between his legs, Tony’s own erection aching insistently. He’d thought about it, but never quite let himself envision it, what it would actually be like to do it, like this, with Steve right there in front of him. The metal was cool against his own bare flesh, at first, every time. When it was fully out over his hand, he stopped the armor at the end of the gauntlet, at his own elbow, and pressed his now gauntlet-covered palm back against Steve’s eyes.

 

Steve gasped at the sound of it, even before Tony touched him, and when he did, he sucked in his breath, went still. He had already mentioned the armor, like this, to Tony, at least five times, with various levels of interest and wistfulnesss, even verging on longing. Tony hoped he’d gotten it right. Steve’s cock reacted, at least, jumped up against his pelvis and stomach, spilling precome against Steve’s skin, though of course that didn’t mean it was great for him necessarily, just that something had turned him on. Still, it was a good sign, and Steve was usually pretty direct in his responses. He gave a little moan, after a while, licked his lips, flushing even darker, all over, even more gloriously, deeply red, and then said, “Oh, God, Tony.”

 

Tony took a deep breath, flexed his fingers at Steve’s shaking back. “Is that a good oh God?” he asked.

 

Steve wobbled on his knees, pressed his face a little more firmly into that gauntleted hand. “Are you kidding me?” he said in a strangled voice. “I can’t believe you—you’re really, you’re finally doing it, I. Yes. Hell yes, it’s good.”

 

“Mmm,” Tony said. He rubbed his thumb a little against Steve’s spine, took another deep breath. “Gotcha.” He was glad Steve was pleased—it sent a thrill through him, too, to see Steve responding like that, his breathless excitement, his pleasure, made his own dick throb, made him feel a little dizzy. He took a deep breath and told himself to focus in. They couldn’t do this if he didn’t focus.

 

He pulled out more of the armor, up over the shoulder joint, up to the helmet, resting his arm over Steve’s, over his shoulder, so that he could feel it. It was strange to suddenly see Steve through Iron Man’s eyes, readouts blaring his heartrate, his body temperature, focusing on every part of him, overlaying his body in a wash of information. Tony blinked, once, twice, until he was looking past them, just focusing on Steve again, his beauty, his shaking, wanting form. When he spoke again, it was with Iron Man’s modulated, harsher, more electronic voice. “Well, I’ve got you, Winghead,” he said.

 

Steve let his breath out heavily, his knees almost buckling. A full body shudder went through him, followed by even more of that red, brilliantly flushed heat making its way down his back. “Mmph,” he said, swaying a little. “Oh, God, Sh-Shellhead, what are you trying to do to me here?”

 

God, Tony thought, that stutter, that little waver in his voice.

 

“Show you a good time, mostly,” Tony said, smiling behind the faceplate. “What, you got a problem with that, big guy?”

 

“No,” Steve said quickly. “Definitely not.” His hands clenched into fists, unclenched. “I just . . . wow. Tony, just . . . wow.”

 

“That’s a vote of confidence if I’ve ever heard one,” Tony said, feeling that sense of relief again, even more, now, another warm wash of feeling, that Steve liked this, that he’d gotten it right. Or at least close enough to right to work for him. He left his hand on Steve’s back, just above the curve of his ass, in the dip of his spine, and pulled the gauntlet out on that hand, too, over his fingers, up over his wrist. Steve hissed in his breath, shook, shivered, almost dumped himself onto the bed before he got his knees and hands under him again. Tony had to catch his breath, because he never saw Steve get that wobbly, that unsteady, not even during sex. He took a deep breath, then skimmed that gauntlet up over Steve’s back, letting the articulated rivets rasp just slightly, not enough to even really hurt, over Steve’s skin, the bumps of his spine, the ripples of his muscles, prickling with gooseflesh and twitching under his touch. Steve gasped again, gave a long breathless groan, leaning further into Tony’s hand over his eyes. He was breathing unsteadily. Tony slid his gauntleted thumb back down, from the top of Steve’s vertebra over each one, all the way to his tailbone.

 

“T-Tony,” Steve said, and his voice was utterly breathless, stuttered and shook. “I-Iron Man.”

 

“Hmm?” Tony asked, cupped the curve of Steve’s ass in that one metal-covered hand and squeezed, like he was considering him, the picture he made laid out before Tony on his hands and knees, eyes covered with one gauntlet at one end and the second gauntlet cupped around his ass at the other. Steve groaned again, his chest heaving.

 

“Oh, God,” he said again. “I. Are you going to do anything, or just let me die of anticipation here?” The words were snarky, teasing, but his voice, shuddering, shaking, desperate and eager and breathless, was anything but.

 

“What are you thinking I would do?” Tony asked. He skimmed his hand around, up to Steve’s hip, just held him for a moment, then up over his chest, slow and teasing. “I dunno, I kind of like just having you here like this.” He grinned. “Aren’t you enjoying it, baby?”

 

Steve huffed out his breath. “God _damn_ it, mister,” he said.

 

Tony made a tsking noise, knowing it came out filtered and almost ominous through the faceplate. “Now, be good, Winghead,” he said. “Don’t go getting all impatient on me. I don’t want to have to do anything drastic.” He leaned forward, rested the faceplate against Steve’s shoulder, against his ear. “You can be good, right?” he murmured, low. “I know you can. You’re such a good guy. You’re such a good boy.” This was a bit . . . different, it felt weird, trying on Iron Man’s voice, his identity, in bed with Steve, let alone in a scene like this. Not weird to be with Steve, it was actually almost more familiar to be with Steve as Iron Man, but . . . just. Different.

 

Steve just whined a little, helplessly, but he slumped, just a bit, and Tony knew he’d given in for now. “You’re killing me, Iron Man,” he said.

 

Tony smirked a little. “Aww, you can take it,” he said.

 

Steve grunted, but didn’t argue. He was clearly torn—wanting to argue, wanting to be good, and probably a little bit not wanting to sound like he _couldn’t_ take it, after all. Tony nuzzled in against his neck a little more—that was weird, not feeling Steve’s skin against his lips—and stroked his chest, down to his belly, soothing more than anything. Steve surprised him, by arching his back, tilting his head up, grabbing Tony around the neck, twisting his head to lay a firm, rather messy kiss against the mouth of the faceplate. He grinned under the hand Tony had managed to keep over his eyes, kissed him again, lips sliding over the metal in a way that made Tony gasp, feeling almost like the wind had been knocked out of him, despite himself, and then let Tony push him back down.

 

“So, you like Iron Man that way?” Tony said, after a moment, joking, and saw Steve smile.

 

“Got a pretty big crush on ‘im,” he said, almost shy, after a second, and Tony had to smile. He knew _he_ had a thing for the armor, but then, it was his, well, his thing, he’d built it. He’d never really thought about Steve having one in a different way.

 

“Well, I have to say he feels the same way about you,” Tony said, smiling again himself. He kept stroking Steve’s chest, soothing, slowly. “Pretty flattering, really, to know you return those feelings, I’d say.” Steve blushed all adorably, still smiling, and wasn't that just something. Tony gave him a moment, and after a bit, Steve started to relax, his head dropping down, his hands and knees going heavier against the bed, his chest sinking down a little. After that moment, Tony moved his hand down, in between Steve’s legs, found his desperately hard, leaking cock and wrapped his gauntlet around it, squeezed.

 

Steve jerked right back up, gave a desperate, urgent noise. The armor’s sensors told Tony that the temperature of his cock was blazing hot, much hotter than normal, even though he couldn’t feel it against his skin. Steve’s heart rate was elevated, pounding in his chest. “I guess you are pretty into this,” Tony said, mock-consideringly, weighing Steve’s cock in his hand, tugging at the fold of his foreskin with one metal thumb. “Just look at how hard you are, baby. You could pound nails with this.”

 

Steve groaned low in the back of his throat. “You better believe I am,” he bit out, fists clenching against the bed. “Tony, I just . . . Tony—”

 

“Just making sure,” Tony said, and, well, he was teasing him, kidding, but it _was_ pretty nice to have this kind of reinforcement that he’d made the right call here, he couldn’t deny that. He dragged his hand up, making sure Steve felt every inch of the metal along his flesh, and Steve grunted, made a noise like he’d been punched, and fell forward onto his forearms, gasping, precome splashing over Tony’s metal fingers.

 

Damn. Damn, he was gorgeous. So willing and eager and open, letting Tony see so much of him like this. “You do seem pretty ready to go,” Tony continued, teasing. He gave Steve another stroke down, cupped the gauntlet against his balls, between his legs, then pulled his hand away, wiping the liquid from Steve’s body off on his own hip. He shifted his weight, still covering Steve’s eyes with one hand, and summoned the armor to his leg, his thigh, not enough to dig into his groin, and not the boot, which would be too awkward on the bed, but enough to have a smooth metallic covering over the meaty part of his thigh, then leaned forward, sliding it in between Steve’s legs, nudging it up against Steve’s balls, far enough up to press firmly into Steve’s cock.

 

Steve moaned, low and husky, and moved back, pressing down on him, pushing into that offered friction, almost instantly, and Tony caught him at his hip, took a deep breath, told himself to have some balls, Stark, seriously, Steve wanted this, was counting on him, and tightened that grip enough to press bruises into Steve’s skin, even Steve’s. “None of that, now, gorgeous,” he said. “Stay. Shhh.”

 

“I’ve been staying,” Steve said, breathy and desperate. He wriggled a little under Tony’s hand, panting, and Tony could see the way his precome was spattering his chest, over the bed, hear the whimper in his throat as Tony’s hand tightened, even as he pushed back against him anyway, rubbed against him, moving himself up and down over Tony’s thigh and leaving a messy, glistening streak of precome across the gleaming metal.

 

Holy shit. Holy . . . shit. Tony had to take a deep breath at that, steady himself and try to ignore his own cock jerking and throbbing. It took him a second.

 

“Come on, mister, what?” Steve asked, panting for breath, head still ducked down. “You’re not gonna fuck me?”

 

“That depends,” Tony said, letting his weight rest on Steve’s back now, banishing the helmet again and using one of the tricks Steve himself had taught him to pin him to the bed. Steve probably wouldn’t have fallen for it, normally, but Tony caught him, and he went still with an oof of effort, “on whether you keep rubbing up against my leg like someone who wants to get punished,” Tony finished, more breathlessly, up against his ear, and banished the helmet with a thought, though keeping some of the sensor readouts in his vision, before he leaned in a little further, bit at the back of Steve’s neck. Steve gasped, his cock throbbing against Tony’s metal-covered leg between his thighs, according to his sensors.

 

“I want you to fuck me,” Steve said, his breaths whining needy in his throat now, breathing heavily where he was pinned against the bed, “I don’t care how it happens, I just . . . .” he gave a desperate heave of breath, moved his head against Tony’s fingers, leaning forward and rubbing back and forth.

 

“Then be a good boy,” Tony said, still biting lightly at that sensitive skin. “Be good for me, Steve, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

 

Steve moaned. “Promise me you’re going to give it to me hard before you stop,” he said softly, low.

 

“I’ll give it to you as hard as I think you need it,” Tony told him firmly. Steve blew out his breath trembling, heavy and not quite hopeless, but submissive, letting himself sink into Tony’s hands, against the bed.

 

“Yes, yes, please, yes,” he mumbled. “Yessir.”

 

Tony was planning to give it to him hard, of course. That was kind of the whole point of the exercise. But Steve needed to know it wasn’t his call—if Tony gave him back the feeling of control now, this whole thing would kind of be a waste of time.

 

“So be good,” he told him, almost coaxing now. “I dunno, maybe what you need is an exercise in patience, huh, baby?”

 

Steve gave a hopeless little woosh of air, and his fingers curled in the blankets. “You think?” he said, sounding a little desperate.

 

“I’m still deciding,” Tony told him. He brought his helmet back so that Steve would hear Iron Man’s voice, then pushed Steve’s head down, into the pillow, laying that hand that had been over his eyes on the back of his neck, gripping tight and pushing him down, making sure it was just Steve’s eyes and forehead that were smushed down into the pillow, that his mouth and nose were uncovered and he could still breathe, keeping his thigh firmly in place between his legs, holding him still. “Keep your eyes covered for me,” he said. “Remember, no peeking.”

 

“No peeking,” Steve repeated, panting. His hands came up to burrow into the pillow, but he didn’t move. Tony put that other hand on his shoulder, held him down firmly. Steve was still panting, his chest heaving, his cock heavy between his legs, his body hot where Tony could feel it where they were pressed together, where he was holding him down, legs splayed a little and trembling again, his whole body practically thrumming with it, the heat, the anticipation. His hair was spiking up a little with sweat, mussed and fluffy, and Tony could not only hear his loud pants for air, he still had that stream of numbers of the armor’s readouts in his head, in front of his eyes.

 

“That’s better,” Tony said, soothing. “There, that’s my good boy. That isn’t so hard, is it?”

 

“Shellhead . . . .” Steve gasped out. Tony pressed his chest over his back and Steve gasped, grunted, low, as Tony’s cock pressed right up against his ass. Tony almost whimpered himself, the firm sweaty heat of Steve’s ass welcome friction after all this time, the sweaty, rippling expanse of muscle of Steve’s back against his chest, but managed to bite it back at the last second. “It’s a little hard,” Steve muttered after a second, and Tony had to laugh, even despite his own frustration.

 

“Aww, poor Steve,” he teased. “I bet you’re hard,” he added, purposefully misunderstanding him. “Desperate to come, baby?”

 

“Yes!” Steve said, practically shouted, then blushed, all over, bright red, even into his ears. “Damnit,” he muttered, and bit his lip. “I didn’t mean to be that loud.”

 

“Soundproofing is a beautiful thing,” Tony soothed him. He propped his gauntleted arm over Steve’s shoulders, holding him down, being careful to use the armor’s sensors to keep track of exactly how much force he was exerting. That much weight was enough to hurt, enough to hold Steve down, and maybe bruise him after a while, but not enough to worry about really hurting him. It was reassuring, to have that steady stream of numbers in the back of his mind, across his vision. To _know_.

 

Maybe he could actually do this.

 

“It’s good to know you’re invested in the outcome,” he quipped, and bit at the back of Steve’s ear, trailing his metal palm and fingertips down over Steve’s chest, stopping to toy with his nipples for a bit. “God, that’s pretty,” he said as Steve whimpered, screwed up what he could see of his face and squirmed under his touch, still chewing on his lip. He pinched at them again, until Steve was more writhing than just squirming, unintentionally rubbing his ass all up against Tony’s cock, which was both wonderful, because it felt incredible, and a horrible tease at the same time. Steve gasped and whined and swore at him under his breath, but he wasn’t struggling, for the moment, because if Steve were struggling he’d make him know it, just digging his fingers in tight against the pillow and arching his back, trying not to move too much, clearly, but still writhing despite the way Tony had him pinned. He was probably still strong enough to buck Tony off if he really tried, but he wasn’t trying, just moving out of desperate sensation, no thought really in it at all.

 

After a while, when Steve was pretty much just cursing into the bed like it was an AIM saboteur, and his nipples were red and puffy under Tony’s fingers, he finally skimmed his hand down, took Steve’s cock in the gauntlet’s fingers, squeezed, then stroked up.

 

Steve almost sobbed into the bed, though it was just the sound of his heaving breaths, his gulps for air. “Tony,” he said.

 

“Yeah, baby?” Tony asked, still stroking his cock. Long, slow strokes, up and down. He couldn’t believe how hot the armor’s sensors said Steve’s cock was. He nudged his thigh up a little more, pressing it into Steve’s balls.

 

“Mmph,” Steve said. “Please . . . .” he was squeezing his eyes shut, pushing his head ever further into the pillow. “Please.”

 

“Please what?” Tony asked. “Ask for what you want, baby boy.”

 

“Let me come,” Steve panted, almost weakly.

 

“Hmm?” Tony asked. “What was that?”

 

Steve gave a harsh breath of air, almost impatient, but his voice when it came was desperate and still low and breathless, needy. “Please let me come,” he managed.

 

“Go right ahead,” Tony told him magnanimously. “Don’t let me stop you.”

 

Steve shifted his head around, eyes still squeezed shut, to glare at him, give him a frustrated little twist of his mouth, then was panting into the pillow all over again as Tony gave him another long, slow stroke. It took a few more seconds, but then Steve was coming, heavily, like always, covering his own chest and stomach in it, groaning almost like he was in pain and gripping desperately at the pillow, rolling his shoulders as his cock twitched and pumped out his release. He went almost limp after that, sagging exhaustedly down, cock still twitching, still covering him in come for long moments, while Tony admired the sight of that, his release, the bow of his back, the way it curved forward as he slumped and panted unsteadily into the pillow, the long, perfect lines of him, the angles of his back and shoulders and hips, the geometry in his muscles, in the curve of his thighs, the beautiful relaxation in that slump.

 

He let his hand still for a bit, just barely rubbing at the underside of Steve’s cock, teasing him, but gently, barely enough to milk the last few drops of his orgasm out of him. He let him rest for a moment, until Steve started to breathe more steadily, then went back to stroking him. Steve startled, visibly, gasped. Tony could see the second it started to hurt a little, Steve’s shoulders tensed up, and he started panting more harshly again, instead of low and sated. He kept at it until Steve was really gasping for air, his fingers tight in the pillow, his grip biting in deep and hard enough that Tony was a little afraid he was going to rip it and be embarrassed over it, until Steve’s cock was starting to harden again between his legs despite how it had to hurt, and then brought his hand away. His gauntlet was messy with Steve’s come, and wasn’t that the sight? Jesus. He was still leaning his other arm on Steve’s shoulders, and he’d left it there long enough that Steve had to be sore.

 

“How was that?” he asked, teasingly, nosing in just behind his ear. “Not enough for you? You want more, Winghead?”

 

Steve gave a low, groaning, almost whimpering breath, but he did push his ass up, rubbed back against Tony’s groin, and almost made him moan with the sudden burst of heat and pleasure and friction that brought him. Steve was still gasping breathlessly, big heaves for air going through his body, but apparently that wasn’t about to stop him. “Don’t stop now,” he mumbled. “Just gettin’ started.”

 

He was something else. Tony grinned through his own gasping, bit the inside of his cheek until he had control of himself again, then caught Steve’s hip with the still come-wet metal of his hand, stilling him with an effort. “Uh-uh-uh,” he said.

 

“What, not gonna follow up on all that teasing?” Steve asked, words a little slurred from the overstimulation, probably, but clear enough. “Not going to pin me to the bed and show me who’s boss? Come on, Shellhead, thought you were gonna really give it to me this time.”

 

“Oh, I don’t have to pin you to the bed to show you who’s boss, baby doll,” Tony murmured in his ear, banishing the helmet again with a thought before he spoke so Steve would hear his natural voice. “Though I might if you ask me nicely. I just have to do this.” He breathed lightly against Steve’s ear, nuzzled in against it, behind it, mouthed lightly at the sensitive skin there, then moved back, bit lightly against the back of his neck. Steve trembled, blew his breath out. “Or this,” Tony continued, and reached down, flicked lightly at the underside of his cock. Steve gasped, and his legs trembled. “You know who’s in charge,” he said, and licked a stripe up the underside of Steve’s jaw.

 

“Maybe I just like it when you push me around,” Steve murmured after a moment of just trembling under him. Tony could see that he was smiling a little.

 

“Hmm,” Tony said. Kissed his cheek, wetly. “Now that we can work with.” He reached up with his hand, tweaked Steve’s nipples again with his metal-covered fingers, hard enough to hurt, and Steve huffed a breath out through his nose. “Maybe I will give you want you want, after all,” he said.

 

“That’d be nice,” Steve said.

 

“You are such a snarky bastard,” Tony said.

 

“You sure are a saint to put up with me,” Steve said, smiling.

 

Tony laughed. “Let’s not go that far, sunshine,” he said, and patted Steve’s side, gently with the gauntleted hand. Just very, very in love, he thought to himself, and swallowed, with one of the best men he had ever met. He leaned down, kissed the back of Steve’s neck, then the top of his head, and he could see Steve smile a little. He reached over his head, for the other pillows, slid his hand under them to find the lube where they kept it most days (and most days, it went unused, they weren’t always lucky enough to have this kind of time with each other—though there’d been an awful lot of sleepy morning sex, they usually didn’t fuss with penetration, and it wasn’t as if they needed lube otherwise with how wet Steve got with precome). Steve shivered a little, shifted as if to raise his head, but Tony stilled him with a gentle touch to the back of his head, tilting it back down just slightly. “Hey, now, no looking unless I say you can,” he said, and sat back slightly, popping the cap off the top so that Steve could hear it. “But yes, honey, it totally is the lube.”

 

Steve drew in a long, slow breath, anticipatory and eager-sounding. “How do you want me?” he murmured after a moment.

 

“Spread your legs a little, peaches,” Tony said, and Steve did, breathed out and didn’t raise his head, just opening his legs wider, splaying them out and tilting his ass up, unconsciously, Tony thought, just part of how he’d also lowered his chest toward the bed, bowing the curve of his spine away from Tony’s chest. Whatever it was, it stopped Tony’s breath in his throat for a second, sent a hot new vivid flush of lust through him. He swallowed. “That’s great, that’s so pretty,” he praised him, letting some of his own heat show in his voice this time, let Steve know he was affecting Tony, too. He squirted the lube out onto the fingers of his gauntlet, smearing it wet and glistening with the gel, all the way up to his knuckles, going heavy on the stuff, before he reached back, ran the metal of the gauntlet gently over the curve of Steve’s ass, knowing the roughness of the deactivated repulsor had to be digging into him a bit and hoping that would only add to the whole thing for him, before he dipped those fingers in between his cheeks. It was simple to find his hole with the armor’s sensors zeroing in on that slightly warmer part of his body, and he slipped one bigger metal-covered finger in, crooked it just inside.

 

It wasn’t a difficult slide, just a little bit of a push, Steve relaxed for the intrusion and still a little damp from earlier, opening up easy, almost eagerly, for the armor’s lube-slick finger. Steve hissed through his teeth, trembled, tossed his head just a little, pressing his face into the pillow. “That’s gorgeous,” Tony said, low, tilting his head down just a little toward Steve’s ear without moving enough to lose sight of his body, “you’re so eager for me, almost pulling me in, look at that.” Steve shivered at his words, flushed, but didn’t tense, just went a little redder all over and trembled, his body still so eager as Tony pressed that finger further inside, muscles fluttering around the metal, clenching and unclenching, contracting down around him not to push against the intrusion, but almost clutching at him, drawing him further in. Tony knew the metal had to be warming from Steve’s body, and the thought made him feel hot himself, almost dizzy. He knew where to find what he wanted by this time and curled his finger inward, skimming it over until he found it. He swiped that finger over Steve’s prostate once, then circled back, slow and easy.

 

Steve gave a hoarse, stuttering groaning noise, tossed his head again, chest heaving. “Y-you always know just where to . . .” he started, voice thick and heavy.

 

“Oh, yeah, you’d better believe it,” Tony said. “I know your body inside and out by now, sweetie.” He crooked his finger a little more, pressed it inward, and Steve choked out a gasp, cock jerking, already achingly hard between his strong, sturdy, shuddering thighs again. “Probably better than you do,” he murmured warmly down at Steve, which might not have been true, but it was part of the pose, anyway. Power, control, all that stuff. In a good way. Tony hoped. “Could you find your prostate this easy?” he continued, still stroking it with that one metal finger. Steve couldn’t—that was one thing he was sure of, at least, when he got Steve to finger himself it always took him a good five minutes to find it, peak human coordination or not.

 

Steve groaned, trembled, and whimpered a little, as Tony continued to stroke him. After a long moment of him just lying there, panting, his fingers tightening in the blankets, he got a breath, seemed to pull himself back together enough to manage a breathless, “Nossir, I . . . I couldn’t.”

 

Honest as always. Tony smiled at that, affectionate, and glad Steve wasn’t looking, because that soft sort of fondness wasn’t going to work for what he was doing, not quite like that. “That’s right,” he said instead. “But don’t worry, peaches, I’ve got you.” He swirled his finger, pressed it in a little harder, moving back and then in again, pressing firmly each time. Steve was breathing heavily, gasping, with each press of the metal fingertip in against that spot. “I know what feels good,” he murmured, leaning in to murmur the words against Steve’s ear just for a moment, watching him shudder.

 

“It does,” Steve said, breathy and shuddering, quickly. “I-it really does, Tony, I . . . I . . . .”

 

“Shhh,” Tony said, and patted his shoulder, straightening up again to get that better angle back. “I know it does.” He twisted his finger, pulled it back, nearly out of Steve, tugging at his hole to make it easier to slide the second in. That time it took a bit more force, but Steve’s body still didn’t put up too much resistance, relaxed and welcoming, and soon two of the armor’s fingers were pressing deep into him, and Steve’s chest was heaving unsteadily again. “If you need to come, now, don’t worry about fighting it,” Tony said. “Just go right ahead. You’ll get plenty more chances before we’re done.”

 

“Oh,” Steve said, then, a little strangled, “God.”

 

“We still haven’t even figured out how many times you can come before your body just gives out on you,” Tony said in a purposefully thoughtful tone, sliding his fingers teasingly over Steve’s prostate again, pressing and swirling, before he moved them back to stroke him more shallowly, just working him open. Steve made a little noise at that, half a gasp, but with some voice to it, and his back trembled. Tony rotated his armored fingers, spread them out wider and tried not to lose track of things in watching the stretch of Steve’s slick, pink skin around the red metal of the armor. “I wonder if it’s even possible,” he added after he a moment, once he got his mind back a bit, pitching his voice warm, distantly fond. “If you could even run out of orgasms, or if your body would just keep going. And going. And you’d never be done. Always ready for more.”

 

Steve groaned, his cock jerking between his legs as he turned his head, eyes still shut tight, pressed his cheek into the pillow and gasped for air, his breath stuttering, almost whimpering, at the end of it. “I—I wonder . . . about that,” he got out, voice breathless and stuttering and a little thready, and Tony had to catch his own breath, almost choked on his tongue, at that statement. “If I’d ever get tired enough to . . . to run out, like you said. I’ve never even gotten close and I wonder . . . I do get tired, but it seems like I can always . . . well.”

 

Tony slid his fingers nearly out of him, then pushed them both back in, side by side, pushing them into Steve all the way, and listened to him suck a breath in with a low scratchy noise along the bottom of it, then let the breath back out, his lips parting breathlessly. “You can always come again,” Tony finished for him. “You can be exhausted and finished and satisfied with your head swimming with orgasm and you can still come again. Your body won’t ever be done with you—won’t ever be tired enough, you’ll just keep going.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said quietly, hoarse and low, trembling a little around Tony’s hard metal fingers, all the way down his back and in his legs. “I think so.”

 

“So I guess it’s all up to me to take pity on you, Winghead,” Tony said, voice purposefully a little provoking now, a little teasing, because he knew Steve wasn’t going to like that comment, it would get under his skin a little, and he wanted to see if he was far down enough to accept it, or if he was going to push back. He kept stroking his fingers inside Steve, still avoiding his prostate. “To call a stop to it. Or not. However long it takes. However long I _decide_ it’s gonna take.”

 

Sure enough, Steve’s shoulders bunched up, flexed, and Tony could see the frown on his face as he turned his eyes back to the pillow and pushed his head back down, but then he let his breath out, unsteady and gasping as Tony slid those two fingers hard into his ass again, and said, “Yeah, yeah, I guess so.”

 

Tony gulped, had to catch his own breath again at that. He hadn’t been expecting that sort of a response, not yet, had thought he’d get more of a push back still. Steve didn’t sound thrilled and breathless at the idea or anything, there was a little attitude there, but he certainly sounded willing, too, and eagerly so, obedient and pliant, the conscious acknowledgement of submission in his voice, and the little tremor of excitement that went along with that, just a little.

 

“I’m not gonna break,” Steve added, a moment later, grunted as Tony twisted his fingers, jabbed them into him again. “Even if I—I—” he had to catch his breath again, at the feeling of it, before he continued “—even if I feel like I can’t go any further, d-do any more, we both know I can. S’your call.”

 

“But what about if it was your call? Would you go until you hurt?” Tony asked, low and soft, bending forward over Steve to pitch his voice low. “Until you felt like you were gonna break? Or would you stop, earlier, when you were still feeling good and perfect and relaxed?” He twisted his fingers again in Steve’s hole, rotated his wrist. “Which is it, baby boy, which do you _really_ want?”

 

Steve gave a rough, breathless little laugh. “Both, Tony,” he said. “Both. That’s the thing.” He gasped a little more, pausing as Tony kept moving his fingers, then pulled them nearly out again, thrust them back in, started up a different rhythm, but not like he was done, more like he was getting his mind around what he still wanted to say. “It’d—it’d depend on how I felt. What I wanted. What _you_ wanted . . . .” He let his voice trail off, gasping with each thrust of Tony’s fingers into his hole like they were a lot bigger even than they were.

 

What Tony wanted. God. He didn’t think Steve was just saying that. He never just said things. And Steve wanted to be good, when he was like this, really, really did, but that didn’t mean he really played it up at all, ever. He was just as straightforward, just as honest, as he was any other time. Just more open, sweet and honest and dizzyingly, breathtakingly open, because Tony had made him that way, and Steve had let him. It was enough to make Tony feel like he was dizzy, tumbling through freefall, himself, every time.

 

“What I wanted, huh?” he managed to murmur. He pulled his metal fingers apart, spreading Steve, tugging him open. Steve gave a low, soft grunt of a noise. “What d’you think it’s going to be this time, peaches? What are you wanting?” He didn’t mean it as a trick question, hadn’t meant it that way earlier either.

 

“Whatever you want,” Steve gasped, breathless, his head tossing so that his hair tousled, went tangled and fuzzy, against the pillow, “anything, Shellhead, anything.”

 

It was the perfect answer, of course, but Tony still didn’t get the impression Steve was trying to pitch it that way; he sounded half out of his head and desperate, and his fists were balled up tight in the pillow as he shuddered and gasped. “Anything,” he leaned forward to murmur, low, in Steve’s ear, not moving his fingers, and kissed the curve of it, gently. “Really, honey? Anything at all?”

 

Steve gulped, squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and then, after a second, nodded. “Anything _you_ want,” he said, like he was clarifying.

 

“Oh,” Tony said, smiling to himself a little. He guessed that did make a big difference, though, didn't it? All the difference. Not anything anyone had ever thought of, but anything Tony, who Steve trusted for some inexplicable reason, came up with. “Anything _I_ want.”

 

“Y-yeah,” Steve said, on a low, shuddering exhale of breath.

 

“Exactly,” Tony said, and smiled, kissed the back of his neck. “Exactly, honey. That’s exactly it.”

 

Steve smiled a little, without opening his eyes.

 

“My good boy,” Tony told him, low. “You’re always so good.”

 

Steve smiled a little more. “Not always,” he said, then let his breath out, heavily, twitched his hips a little, like he wanted really badly to remind Tony he was supposed to be moving his fingers in his ass, but wanted to be good too much to say.

 

Tony had to grin at that. Honest. “Often enough,” he said, his affection finding its way into his voice despite himself, and patted Steve’s ass lightly. “Shh.”

 

Steve frowned, but went still. Opened his mouth, then closed it again, and went a few shades redder in the face. Tony picked up the lube, slid his fingers out of him, to a low sound of loss from Steve, and squirted more onto the armor’s surface, before he put his hand on the small of his back, just above the swell of his ass, so that his thumb nearly brushed his hole, holding him as he slid the two armored fingers back into him with some force. He knew he didn’t _need_ to steady him—that wasn’t the point. His fingers slid home almost easily, and Steve gasped, a breathless sound strangling in his throat. Tony rolled them lightly, and Steve’s cock leapt between his legs—he’d given him permission to come whenever he wanted it for a reason. “See?” he asked, and didn’t try to keep the breathy desire out of his own voice. “You’re being good right now.”

 

Steve smiled again, like he was happy Tony had noticed that. “Thank you,” he murmured. There were times that might have been snarky from Steve, who could be a little (well, big) shit, but there wasn’t a shred of attitude in it that time, of anything but gratitude, all artless and sincere.

 

Ha. Sweetheart. Steve was such a sweetheart. “You’re welcome,” Tony purred. He swirled his fingers again, moving them over Steve’s prostate, teasing, but careful to keep a rhythm that was slow enough that he wouldn’t get overstimulated and sore, not there, and not yet.

 

Steve sighed, and his fingers clenched up above his head. “You said I could come?” he mumbled, as if checking, just in case. “Whenever.”

 

“Yes,” Tony confirmed. He brushed the metal covering his other thumb just lightly against the top of Steve’s hole. “Whenever you get there.”

 

Steve sighed again, breathily. “I’m close,” he said, open mouth catching against the pillow as he turned his head, his eyes still closed.

 

Tony bet he was. “Perfect, baby,” he said. “Come whenever you need to.”

 

“You’re gonna torture me after,” Steve mumbled. “Keep goin.’”

 

Tony laughed, moved the hand on his back down beneath him to pat lightly at Steve’s balls. “Yeah,” he said. “I am. But don’t you dare hold off, sugar. Don’t you dare.”

 

“I wouldn’t,” Steve said, the consonants sloppy and slurred a little. “’m not yellow. I want you to make me work for it.”

 

“Oh, I know,” Tony assured him, smiling. “I will. Count on it.”

 

“An’ I like torture,” Steve added after a moment, smiling a little more. “That kind, anyway.”

 

That kind. Tony bit his lip on a laugh. Jesus. “I know, baby doll,” he said, and curled his fingers again, pressing harder but keeping the same slow rhythm, patting Steve’s ass again with his other gauntlet, then moving it up over his back to rub that thumb against the nape of Steve’s neck, down between his shoulder blades. Steve gasped, groaned, and a tremor rolled up through his back before he let out a sigh and relaxed, almost limp except where his knees were keeping him up against the bed. Tony kept massaging his neck that way, careful of the metal fingers of the gauntlet even as he pushed his fingers in harder against that spot in Steve’s ass, shifting the rhythm now, working Steve up a little more quickly. He summoned the helmet again to speak with Iron Man’s voice. “Gonna come for me like this?” he asked, and squeezed the back of Steve’s neck. “Just from my gauntlet buried in your ass?”

 

Steve groaned, gasped, hoarse and a little loud, “Yes,” voice breathless, heavy, “ _yes_ , Tony, please!” Tony twisted his fingers in, giving him the stimulation he needed now, and it was just a few more seconds before Steve came on a cry, splattering himself with come again, cock working, jerking untouched as it pumped it out, arching his head back off the bed, his eyes still closed, because he was wonderful. Tony moved his hand around, covered them for him, because he figured Steve could use the break from keeping his concentration on that, and Steve leaned the weight of his head against Tony’s hand immediately, hair flopping down against the metal of the gauntlet, and panted, quivering. Some of his come had splashed up as far as his collarbone, Tony noticed, and had to swallow. Hard. The readouts swimming across his eyes were distracting, too, the exact force exerted by Steve’s body as it clamped down around the fingers of the gauntlet in his ass, the rate and rhythm of his muscle contractions, his heart-rate and blood pressure and the exact degree of the heat of him inside, of his cock, of his come, dropping off fast now as it cooled against his body. He had to blink fast against them a few times just to catch his own breath.

 

Steve was still a gasping, breathless mess before him on the bed, clearly not quite up to catching his own breath yet. Two orgasms didn’t usually leave him quite so overcome, but—well, there were obvious intensifying factors at work here. Tony leaned forward, let the helmet melt away again, and pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple, couldn’t help it. Steve gasped, mumbled, “Tony, Tony,” almost desperately, stumbling over his name, New York suddenly very present in the way he hit the t, the shape of the o. He tilted his head up, angling his face toward Tony, and Tony blinked, surprised, before he realized what Steve had to want, and shifted his hand to keep it over his eyes, leaned down a little further to kiss him, licked softly over his lips, then between them, kissed his mouth slowly and wetly open, and Steve leaned into the kiss heavily, needily, voice skipping over soft sounds in his throat. The angle was bad for it, and the kiss was wet and messy because of that, but Steve didn’t seem to mind.

 

It was a long moment before Tony could bring himself to pull away from that, Steve’s mouth so soft and sweet and eager, velvet-soft and warm on his like he wanted nothing more in the world than to be kissed, and if that was what Steve wanted, then that was what Tony wanted, too, because there was nothing like kissing Steve, nothing quite like it, not even in outer space. When Tony finally did pull away, Steve almost whined, he thought, in that low, rough way he had, but he stopped, bit down on his lower lip instead, and swallowed.

 

“Keep your eyes closed,” Tony murmured against his temple, and Steve nodded, before he moved his hand away. Tony rubbed the gauntlet’s thumb over the back of Steve’s neck, squeezed his hand there gently, giving it a moment before he twitched his armored fingers where they were still buried inside Steve, and Steve gave a ragged little groan. “Ready for more?” Tony asked, still moving his fingers slowly, just enough to be a constant, low level tease.

 

“Mm,” Steve said, then, “mmph.” He panted a little, then raised his head a bit, eyes still screwed shut. “C’mon, Iron Man,” he said. “You ever gonna fuck me?”

 

Tony had to laugh at that. “Sooner or later, yeah,” he said. “I was thinking I would. Eager for it, are we, Winghead?”

 

“God, yes,” Steve said, still panting.

 

“Patience, cupcake,” Tony said. “Remember?”

 

Steve groaned, let his head fall back into the pillow.

 

“Be good,” Tony reminded him, and, after a moment, Steve nodded.

 

“Gonna torture me?” he asked, lips curving up a little in a bit of a smirk.

 

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Tony told him. He leaned down, bit very lightly at the curve of Steve’s ass, the skin very warm against his lips, and Steve yelped. “How you feeling back here?” Tony said. “Open? Wet?”

 

“Yes,” Steve said, and then hesitated, wet his lips, like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say it, then said, “Ready for you.”

 

“Hmm,” Tony said. “You sore inside, back there?”

 

“No,” Steve said. “It’s just—it’s just a little—the armor, the—the gauntlet, your fingers feel so big and—hard—” He whined a little, low and rasping, tried to push back, grind his ass back down on Tony’s hand, so he gathered Steve didn’t think that was a bad thing, at all. He squeezed his hand at the back of his neck, warningly.

 

“Hey,” he said. “Stop that. Be still. Steve. Shh.”

 

Steve stilled with a groan. “Slick,” he said after a second. “Slick and wet and a little raw, it’s strange, to feel so wet over feeling that—burn a little bit—I think it’s just the armor, it’s not . . . forgiving, and—that makes it feel hot inside—” He jerked his hips up, down, rather than moving back, clenched the muscles of his ass, and that made his ass pump up and down in a way that was—distracting. Tony bit his lip, pushed his head further into the bed with that hand on the back of his neck. It was overwhelming enough to hear Steve actually talking like that, almost rambling about how it felt, when usually it was difficult to get him to say anything about how he felt at all. He must have been pretty far in it, and Tony just—he had to swallow, hard.

 

“Stop that,” he said as Steve kept moving, jerking up and down, squeezed a little at his neck, again, then brought his hand back to slap Steve’s ass, hard enough to actually hurt even him. He knew it had to jostle Steve around the gauntlet’s fingers inside; he was counting on it.

 

Steve gasped, gave a sound that was half rough whimper, half yelp, and went still. “Yessir,” he said. “S-sorry, Shellhead.”

 

“Don’t think anything of it,” Tony told him. “Just be still.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Steve breathed out, quietly, his lips barely even moving.

 

“That’s better, that’s good, honey,” Tony told him, and twisted his fingers again, making Steve shudder and gasp, give a little noise of effort, his body flexing and working. “The real question isn’t whether you can come again just from this,” he said, as if he were considering, talking to himself, “it’s how fast.”

 

Steve just groaned.   But he didn’t struggle, and he didn’t argue, even though after a moment of that same quiet, repetitive stimulation of his prostate, he did drag one hand down and shove the knuckles of it in his mouth. Normally Tony would have told him not to, that he wanted to hear whatever sounds he was going to make, but he thought it was more by way of a distraction, anyway, and he was already torturing him enough, he figured, so he let it go. Steve bit down, panting, and when Tony slid his fingers against him a different way, pulled them nearly out and then slid them back in, more slow and gentle this time, he moaned, loudly, despite the hand against his mouth, then blushed. A bit longer and he was biting the meaty part of his palm, gasping, his chest heaving.

 

He was so red all over, his flushed red hole still clinging to the armor’s fingers and his cock half-hard and messy with come between his come-damp thighs, and starting to sweat, Tony could see it along his hairline and the back of his neck. Not enough to dampen his hair yet, and he was still more wet from his own come than from sweat (which was quite the thought, holy shit) but still. The sight of it made Tony feel vaguely dizzy, knowing that he had worked him hard enough that his body was starting to show signs of strain. He thought a lot of it was emotional, nerves or stress or anticipation, but that was even better, and if you really wanted to exhaust Steve, you kind of had to go that way. Well, if you were Tony, that was; he figured someone like Thor would have no problem going all physical, but some of them were still plain old mortals with only a few extra enhancements. And that plain old mortal was who Steve had chosen, even if he still couldn’t believe it. So there. And here they were.

 

Steve groaned, screwed up his face, bit down harder on his hand. “Come on, tiger, you can take it,” Tony told him, taking care not to let his voice get too gentle. “Feels good, doesn’t it? You like this; I know you do. Just let go, just let yourself feel it. Stop worrying about where we’re going, or when we’re gonna get there. Just feel it.” He turned his hand, pressed his fingers up against that place inside Steve and rubbed, firm and slow. “No, it’s not going to happen right away,” he continued, now letting his voice go low, more soothing, to match the slow, constant roll of that pressure inside Steve. “But it’s still good, isn’t it?”

 

“Mmph,” Steve said, and grunted again, teeth still digging into the meat of his hand.

 

Not quite there yet, then. “I know it feels good,” Tony said, not stopping with that slow, constant rub of his two fingers. “I know how much you like this, baby boy, you can’t fool me.”

 

Steve moaned, spread his legs apart, arched his back, eyes squeezing even tighter shut, blond lashes standing out against his flushed red cheeks. That was good, moaning was more like it. Tony took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, running his gauntleted hand down from the back of Steve’s neck, over his back, just a slow, soothing pass of his hand while he kept it up with the other, at least half for his own benefit, wiping his own sweaty forehead on his shoulder. Steve shivered, let his breath out on another moan, his lips parting against his own skin and staying open, soft, heavy breaths coming between them. His mouth stayed open, and after a moment he moaned again, trembling. Another good sign. “There you go, sweetie,” Tony said, after a second. “You’re almost there.”

 

Steve sighed a little at that, and the muscles in his shoulders relaxed, in his back. He was pretty far down, to react like that just to praise, Tony thought. His other hand was still balled up into a fist on the pillow, but his shoulder, his arm, was relaxed despite that. “Mmm,” he said. “Tony.”

 

“Yep,” Tony said. He curled his fingers in a little further, and Steve gave a tiny little cry of surprise, still soft and breathless. “That’s me. How’s that feel?”

 

“G-good,” Steve managed. “Feels good. Feels . . . real good. I.” He gasped, arched his head back again. His eyes were still closed.

 

“Shhh,” Tony said. “Just enjoy it. Just let go.”

 

Steve huffed out his breath, but he let his head drop forward again, gnawed on his palm a little, biting down hard on the web of his thumb. Ow, Tony thought to himself, but Steve liked that shit, he knew that. He was hard again, angry-red and dripping, and Tony wondered if he was sore at all, hard again so fast. If he was, he was probably loving it; Tony was just wondering how he’d feel later on. He was, actually, planning to fuck him, after all, and Steve was so very sensitive he’d no doubt come from that. Steve would probably love that, too, though, even if it hurt, even if he felt a little raw. He really was up for pretty much anything, and he liked it when it hurt. A lot. It was just hard to remind himself of that sometimes, of how much of a turn-on it was for Steve.

 

Tony rubbed his fingers around in a circle inside of Steve and Steve gasped; his teeth relaxed their grip on his skin again. “Mmm,” he said again. Tony didn’t stop, pressed a little harder, and this time Steve’s moan was drawn out and stuttery. He was so relaxed, in his shoulders, all through, that Tony knew he was doing exactly what Tony had asked him for, that he was letting go, just letting himself feel it. He thought he was close again; Steve’s refractory period was ridiculous, and he seemed like it.

 

“Shh,” he said, tucking his hand in a little closer to Steve’s ass to change the angle of his fingers, let him press in just a little bit more firmly. “Concentrate on how it feels, honey. On how much you like it.”

 

Steve nodded a little. “Like it a lot, Tony,” he mumbled. “Feels . . . it’s so good.”

 

“I know, sweetheart,” Tony told him, stroking his back again, for that. He reached up, ran the gauntlet over the top of Steve’s head, petting gently despite the heavy weight of it. “I know.” He gentled the touch inside him, giving him a moment of relief from the heavier pressure, and Steve moaned, trembled and shifted a little, but didn’t protest or rock back. “Shh,” Tony said, and Steve went still, let himself quiet back down against the bed. Tony kept up that gentle touch for a while, massaging him softly, almost tenderly inside, despite the firm solidity of the armor’s fingers, and Steve groaned, shaking. And didn’t say a word to egg him on, or even shift himself around. “Good boy, you’re such a good boy,” Tony murmured, and Steve flushed all the way back into his ears, moaned again. “Yeah, that’s it,” Tony told him, and brushed the short strands of Steve’s hair back from his forehead, unable to help himself from brushing his metal-covered thumb against the sweat beading at Steve’s temple, along his hairline.

 

“Ah,” was all Steve said, short and breathless and needy. Tony didn’t speed up his strokes for a while yet, kept them tender and slow, gentle over that place inside Steve where he most wanted that pressure, until Steve’s cock had turned even more angry-red and hard between his legs, and he was making little sounds on each breath, pitched low, almost grunts. He sounded desperate, his fingers curling into the pillow now instead of bunched up in a fist, the fingers of his other hand loose, but clenching and unclenching. Tony could see it, his body was relaxed but his face was straining, his fingers digging in desperately against the pillow—Tony wasn’t going quite fast or hard for Steve to come, but he was close, painfully close. But Steve wasn’t wriggling or moving or jerking or trying to get more, he was consciously relaxing his shoulders, and his back, taking deep, slow breaths. He was doing exactly what Tony had directed him to do—trying to feel his pleasure and not get caught up in when he was going to come.

 

“Easy, sweetheart,” Tony said, and kept his fingers just that, slow and gentle, for another few moments, not to torture Steve, not really, but because he was in it, feeling it, and he didn’t want to rush him. He waited until Steve’s little noises started to sound more like groans, a little more desperate, a little more needy, unrestrained and desperate, mouth helplessly open, panting like he’d utterly forgotten the prospect of asking for relief. That was when Tony knew if he wanted to have Steve enjoy this, not suffer _too_ much, he needed to make him come soon, so he pressed his fingers back in that extra bit harder, more firmly, started that firm, slow rub against his prostate again. Steve’s shoulders stiffened, he gasped, and he dropped his head down against the pillow, chest heaving. “I’ve got you,” Tony said. “Come whenever you feel it, gorgeous, okay?”

 

Steve gasped at that, again, and then Tony pressed up, and in, harder against that place, and he was coming with what was a full-voiced jolt of a noise, not exactly a shout, but closer than Tony had ever heard him get before in bed. It went all over, again—the bed was one hell of a mess by now—splattered across his chest, even got as high as Steve’s chin, though he didn’t even react. Tony reached up, brushed those few droplets of come off the underside of Steve’s chin, off his neck, with his gauntleted fingers, and licked them off the armor before he could think, before he could stop himself. God. God, that was—the taste of it (Steve always tasted a little sweet, he himself had said it tasted different before the serum) overlaying the metallic tang of the armor, the smooth surface—Tony had to squeeze his eyes shut, just for a second, and bite his lip to keep from moaning. He just let himself take a moment, though, before he forced his eyes back open, slid his arm, still armored up to the shoulder, under Steve’s hips to hold him up, not because he probably needed the help, but because it would be nice for him not to have to worry about that right then, and he _was_ wobbling a little on his knees, as if disoriented.

 

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve said, fervently, still dragging in heavy breaths through his mouth and nose, and his voice sounded heavy and pleasure-lax and slurred. “Thank you.”

 

“Oh, you’re beautiful,” Tony said, before he thought, and caught his breath. “You’re welcome, stud.”

 

Steve blushed and made a face and laughed, loose and easy, and Tony had weird thoughts about making a light that turned on triggered by the sound of Steve laughing like that, like he wasn’t even thinking about it, like he’d never had a care in the world. Because that was what it felt like should happen, it was so bright, radiant. This time, he leaned down over Steve and kissed him without waiting for him to ask, and Steve sighed and leaned into it just as eagerly as he had before, his mouth even softer and more open for Tony’s tongue as he gently pushed it between his lips, leaned into his mouth.

 

Tony kissed him for a long time. He told himself to take his time, that Steve could use a rest after that, and Steve made a happy, low little noise when he leaned further into the kiss and he couldn’t have pulled away right after that unless there had literally been lives on the line. And then Tony himself lost track of time, because the kiss was so sweet and so soft and Steve was just kissing him so openly, generously back. When he pulled away, he pressed kisses over the side of Steve’s mouth (Steve pursed his lips, as if dazedly trying to kiss him back), then up over his cheek, the bridge of his nose, his eyebrow, and made him smile before he pulled away. He immediately slipped his fingers back into Steve’s hole, felt around, felt him arch and buck, twitching, saw his sore cock jerk.

 

“Shh, shhh,” Tony soothed, and kissed him again. He kept one gauntleted hand working in Steve’s hole, at his prostate, until Steve was whining, overwhelmed, gone hot and flushed all over, his hot red face rubbing along Tony’s as Tony kept kissing him, licking soft and biting into his hot red panting mouth, damp and breathless and giving, the way Steve whined and tossed his head back, sweat beading on his forehead, as Tony kept his fingers pressing, moving, circling on that sweet spot. After a moment, Tony dropped his hand to circle Steve’s cock with his gauntleted fingers, squeezed and pulled, circling his hand over the tip. Steve jerked, moaned, his eyes rolling, writing under him, and Tony pressed the metal-covered thumb down into his slit, circled it off over the sensitive head, stroked Steve downwards with the metal circle of his hand again. Steve tossed his head back, moaned loudly, sounding as if he were dying. Tony sucked wetly, hot and bruising, on his bottom lip, and stroked him again, pushed on his slit again, rocking it back and forth.

 

When Steve came again, he sagged, went limp on the bed, his eyes slipping nearly closed as he gasped for breath, whining in the back of his throat as Tony gave him one more stroke of his cock, then brought the wet, come-stained gauntlet away. He pulled the metal fingers out of Steve’s no-doubt aching hole a moment later.

 

“Okay,” he said, cheerfully, and turned his damp gauntlet to stroke it through Steve’s hair again with the backs of the fingers, brush it back off his forehead. “Ready to get fucked now, Winghead?”

 

Steve groaned. “Now,” he mumbled, but then he said, “Finally. You really gonna do it? Or are you just windin’ me up more?”

 

Tony grinned. “Now, that wouldn’t be very nice,” he said, and squeezed Steve’s hips with his other hand. “I’m a nice guy.”

 

Steve frowned at that, his lips doing that thing they did when he was highly dubious of whatever the other person was saying but hadn’t quite worked himself up to get stubborn about it yet. “Uh-huh,” he said. “Sure you are.” His voice was all slurred and his New York accent was stronger than Tony had heard it yet that day. He waved down between his legs. “Don’ know if I can get hard again right. Just. For a while yet,” he said on a sigh, sounding weary but not unwilling. “If that’s gonna be a problem.”

 

“I’m such a nice guy,” Tony told him, “and you don’t appreciate it at all. And no, not a problem. You don’t mind taking it while you’re still soft, right, champ?”

 

Steve shook his head, a little slowly, like he was moving through water.

 

“I didn’t think you did,” Tony said, and it came out a little more fondly than he’d been intending. Oops. “Gotta be kind of a rare thing for you, considering you get hard in a stiff breeze, huh?”

 

He hadn’t quite been expecting Steve to go quite as brilliantly red as he did at that. “Only around you, Shellhead,” he mumbled.

 

Oh, honey. He was too sweet to be real sometimes. “I’ll take that as quite the compliment,” Tony said, slicking the armor’s fingers with lube again, probably pointlessly, considering how wet and open Steve already was, and sliding two of them back into him. Steve moaned aloud. “I figure you took more than enough of the armor to be ready for me,” Tony said, testing with his fingers, moving them around the inside rim of Steve’s hole. “What do you think? You’re all fucked out already and I haven’t even had my cock in you yet. The armor fucked you pretty good to get you opened up for me.”

 

Steve trembled all over, groaned. “Jesus, Tony,” he said, sounding gut-punched and dazed. “I—”

 

“I think you’ll be nice and loose around my cock,” Tony said, and Steve nodded like he thought Tony finally had the right idea.

 

“So ready for you,” he said dreamily, a little longingly. “Slide right in. Please. Fuck me, Iron Man.”

 

Jesus. Tony almost bit right through his lip at that.

 

“Oh,” he said. “I will, Cap, I will.” He fumbled for the lube, slicked up his hand—and whoa, he hadn’t thought about that, the sight of his own gauntlet against his cock, the _feel_ of it—okay so he might have touched himself with it that way before, he wasn’t immune, but oh God wow the feel of the smooth metal against his skin, the contrast with the friction of the interlocking plates— _mind in the game, Stark, Steve’s waiting for you—_ right. He took a deep breath, brought the gauntlet away when he was dripping, then took Steve by the hip, holding him steady. “Get ready,” he told him, then, without much more hesitation, lined himself up with his other hand, pushed into him.

 

And Steve did feel loose inside, he felt great, all soft and hot and clinging around Tony’s cock, bright silken glorious heat, dripping wet with lube and relaxed enough to be fluttery and open around him, muscles clenching a little and tugging at his cock. Steve let his breath out in an oof of air, almost fell forward against the bed, got one forearm under him to hold himself up and panted. “Okay, baby?” Tony managed to get out through the rush of blood in his dick that left him lightheaded and dizzy and hot all over, with pleasure sparking behind his eyes so brightly he could barely speak. “Sweetheart, okay?”

 

“D-does it feel good?” Steve asked, breath stuttering over the words.

 

Oh, Jesus. “It feels perfect,” Tony managed to get out, because he wasn't getting any more words out than that. He slid into Steve gradually, not all at once, but not slowly, because he was so slick and ready for it that neither of them needed slow, didn’t stop until he was in him up to the hilt, and he couldn’t really think about anything else for a few seconds except for the beautiful heat of Steve’s ass, the way it felt around him. He put both hands on Steve’s hips and leaned forward, let himself rest his cheek against the middle of his back and panted. “You feel perfect. You’re perfect.” He took a deep breath, his head swimming. It was so _hot_ inside Steve, and he felt so soft and slick and welcoming. “Tell me, baby, is it okay? You okay?”

 

Steve groaned. “It’s amazing, Tony,” he said, “I can’t—but I wanna—I wanna feel good for you.”

 

“You do. I feel good,” Tony got out, straining. “Very, very good, peaches. It’s ridiculous. I have to—just give me a second.” He turned his face, mouthed gently at Steve’s back, bit him there lightly despite himself, and Steve moaned again, a little, softly.

 

“Yessir,” he said.

 

Tony stayed there like that a moment, had to, getting used to the feeling of Steve around him, trying to settle himself so he didn’t come in about four seconds and cut things way, way shorter than he wanted to and leave Steve disappointed, after all this. It took longer than he had expected; he felt a little bit lost in it, the pleasure in the way Steve’s body embraced him, took him inside like this, so slick and easy. Steve was a little loose around him, but in a good way—like Tony had said, he felt a little fucked out already, tender and shuddery and hot, and why shouldn’t he, after three good orgasms from the armor fingering him open. He pressed kisses up along Steve’s spine, couldn’t help it, it was instinct, what he did to steady himself, and Steve’s skin was clean and tasted like soap and water and the salty tang of sweat and very, very like Steve.

 

Tony didn’t know how long he spent doing that and gasping into Steve’s back, but it couldn’t have been too long before he felt like he was a little bit more in control of himself again, and started moving his hands, brushing them up from Steve’s hips, moving his thumbs along the backs of them, the dips behind them. Steve let out a little shuddering breath and Tony squeezed, let the armor’s fingers press deeper and deeper, until he was sure they’d bruised, left deep fingerprints there. Steve moaned, breaking and loud, breath hitting a shuddering peak like that was the hottest thing he could have imagined Tony doing, and God, the way he reacted to stuff like that—every time. Holy shit. He was going to be awfully bruised there later, though Tony wasn’t sure how long the bruises would last, but he’d seen Steve with bruises from stuff like this, after, running his fingers over them with a dreamy look on his face. If they did last, he’d be thrilled, and Tony didn’t get why Steve wanted Tony to hurt him at all, when Steve deserved only the best, most wonderful, softest things, but he got that Steve liked it (he’d always been a little jealous of how intense it seemed to be for Steve, the stuff when it hurt—and a little curious, too, what must that be like?). Tony took a deep breath and pulled out of him, just a little, to slide back in.

 

Steve gasped, dropped his head, Tony ended up bracing himself with one hand clenched into a fist on Steve’s back, panting, and the hiss of the armor as it tightened into the fist just made his cock throb even hotter than the amazing feeling of Steve inside already was. God, God, Steve felt perfect, and the way he arched his back, the expression of desperate pleasure on his face, even as Tony panted for breath, the way Steve’s ass clenched just a bit around him—hot and shuddery and his clenching muscles gripping all soft and strong against him and it was _perfect_.

 

He needed to get a grip on himself, though, if he was going to show Steve any kind of a good time, so Tony took a breath and tried to focus, started just by circling his hips against Steve, grinding into him, before he caught his breath again and pulled back enough to start thrusting into him with an actual rhythm. Steve made a series of short, gasping noises, slightly too breathy to be called grunts, that sounded literally fucked out of him, his head knocking forward with each thrust, and that was how you knew he was tired, that he was actually letting that happen. He gave it a second, then braced his knee to give himself better leverage, angled himself to start hitting Steve’s prostate each time, taking a long, deep breath and rubbing his forehead against his own shoulder again.

 

“Oh, God, Tony,” Steve said, unprompted, his voice breathless and wrecked. “O-oh God.”

 

“You like that, babe?” Tony managed to get out, fiercely as he snapped his hips into him again.

 

“Ah-h,” Steve gasped. “Yes. Oh, God. Yes.”

 

“You like it when I give it to you hard, don’t you?” It was hard to speak, Tony felt lightheaded, his head spinning, the pleasure so intense. He slid his gauntlet up, curled his fingers around Steve’s shoulder.

 

“Yes,” Steve gasped out. “Yes, Tony, yes. I do, yes.” He sounded so utterly honest, eager and breathless and just . . . gone, that Tony felt heat curling in his belly all over again and had to take another deep breath. He tightened his fingers, gripped his shoulder tightly, pulled Steve back onto his cock a bit, and Steve jolted, gasped on a breathless sound, and God, that was—that was—Tony squeezed, let the fingers of the armor mark Steve there, too, slammed into him hard, once, twice, three times, gripping his other shoulder, holding him there for his cock. Sure enough, Steve was getting hard _now_ , squirming back on him like he was desperate for even more of Tony’s cock in him than he was getting.

 

“Can’t get enough of it,” Tony got out, panting. He didn’t think he would, either, ever get enough of how Steve felt right now, so breathtakingly open and yielding, body rippling around him perfectly, clenching down on him just enough as the muscles of his ass worked with each jolting thrust.

 

“Take as much as you have to give me,” Steve got out between gasps. “Always. Always—a-ah, Iron—Iron Man.”

 

That hit Tony, hard, right in the gut, and he couldn’t get his breath, felt really dizzy for a moment. Tony let his head drop down, pressed his forehead in between Steve’s shoulders, having to gasp heavily for air. “Jesus, sweetheart,” he said, and kissed Steve’s shoulder, right under the bruises from the armor’s fingers.

 

“Mmm,” Steve said, pushed back against him, braced himself on one arm and reached up with his other hand to pull at one of Tony’s hands on his shoulder, peeling the fingers away from the deep indentations they’d been digging in his flesh. Tony let go instantly, and then Steve was tugging his hand down, nuzzling at the still slightly lube-tacky fingers (Jesus, baby, that’s a little—Tony’s mind started, but gave up before it got to _unsanitary_ because it was also hot, Steve’s lips and tongue worrying along the slick metal, and sucking the fingertips into his mouth, and then it was too sweet, so sweet it settled in Tony’s chest and tightened up and ached, fiercely, as he finished with that and laid a kiss to the center of the palm, more kisses along the base of each finger). His lips pressed to the center of the metal palm, again, open-mouthed and soft, in a tender kiss. “All of it,” he said. “All’a . . . all of _you_. C’mon, Tony. Shellhead. Don’t—don’t hold back. Don't . . . hold out on me now.” He squeezed Tony’s gauntleted hand and let go, and Tony had to somehow remember how to breathe after that. “I can take it,” Steve added, softly. “I can take anything.”

 

Tony ended up pressing a soft kiss to the nape of Steve’s neck, in between the already rising bruises he’d left there earlier holding him down, as gentle and soft and sweet and _real_ as he could make it. “Anything, honey?” he murmured, and his throat felt thick. “Anything at all?”

 

“ _Anything_ ,” Steve said, fiercely. “I can take it. Anything from you.”

 

 _Even when I fuck it up_ , Tony almost said. _Even when I can’t give you what you want. Even when I fail you. That, too, Steve?_ But wow, no, no, he couldn’t say that in a scene, and when Steve was spaced out, holy fuck, no. He was just being sweet and honest and _Steve_ , and that was how he felt, and Tony was beyond lucky to ever have that, to ever have that from him again, and he also wanted Tony to fuck him hard, without holding back, which was the obvious undercurrent of the exchange. Steve knew Tony had trouble not holding back—it felt so wrong, not to try and take care of his partner, to just go to town on him like that. But of course Steve didn’t want that, didn’t want it careful and slow. He could take so much more than Tony could ever give him.

 

Tony took a deep breath, swallowed, kissed the back of Steve’s neck again, took a another breath and ground into him again, slowly, making Steve gasp with a lot of breath behind it. He kissed his neck again, just under his hairline, then squeezed his eyes shut, steadied himself, until he could swallow without his throat feeling thick, or it going quavery somehow when he took a breath, then straightened up. He squeezed the back of Steve’s neck again, took his shoulder and fucked up into him, sudden and hard. Steve cried out, and his hands flexed, his head thudded down between both his arms. Tony pulled nearly out of him, slammed in again, and Steve’s trembly breath sounded almost grateful.

 

“God,” Tony said, despite himself, trying to focus on something other than the pleasure coiling tight in his own gut. “If you could see how you look right now—”

 

“I’d probably blush so hard I never stopped,” Steve muttered, and Tony had to gasp on a laugh, even as he kept fucking into him. Steve was almost flat against the bed now, his knees barely under him. What Tony could see of his cock looked like it was definitely very interested again now, hard and red and dripping furiously.

 

“Aww, but I like it when you blush,” he teased.

 

“That’s—that’s—ah—your business,” Steve informed him, a hot red flush already burning the back of his neck.

 

Tony chuckled. “You’re gorgeous, though,” he said, taking a breath as he moved his hips, sliding in and out of him more slowly, watching as Steve breathed out, arched his back, his muscles rippling. “Absolutely. Ridiculously gorgeous. I could record you and watch you like this every day for a week.”

 

Steve was very red now, blotchy down his back. “You wouldn’t—wouldn’t get any work done,” he said.

 

“No,” Tony admitted on a laugh. He had to catch his breath, looking down at Steve, bracing himself to fuck him more slowly, though with no less force. “Seriously, though, you have no idea. How incredible you look. I wish I could record it. Play it back and show you.”

 

“That’s just fine,” Steve said quickly, breath still shuddery from each thrust, and Tony chuckled.

 

“I know, I know,” he said. “You’re not into recordings, honey. I know that. I’m just teasing. To make you _blush_.” He leaned heavily on the word, affectionately, grinning, and Steve blushed again, practically on cue. “There you go,” Tony said, and Steve just blushed harder, and squirmed a little, just a bit, in his hips.

 

Tony hesitated, though, after a moment. “I keep the math of it in my head, though,” he admitted, couldn’t help that his voice went softer, more hesitant. He could still see the readouts in front of his eyes. “The armor’s telling me—trajectory, force, temperature measurements, but even without that, the math’s always there. And . . . I can see it, the memory, through that. See . . . you. Through the math. It’s almost like a recording. For me.” He took a deep breath, skimmed the fingertips of the gauntlets down over Steve’s sides.

 

Steve blinked, then squeezed his eyes shut again, Tony saw it. “Damn,” he said. “Tony. Really?”

 

Tony swallowed. Was that a good thing? Was Steve offended? Freaked out? He could see why he might be. “Um,” he said. “Yeah. Really.”

 

“Well, jeez,” Steve said, on a little bit of a laugh. “You’re so smart. I forget it sometimes.”

 

“Do you mind it?” Tony asked, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He would delete the readouts if Steve wanted him to, of course. But he really—didn’t want to.

 

“Oh,” Steve said. “No, no, not at all.” And then he blushed, bright red, even brighter than before, and said, very quickly, “And, it’s, s’evenokaywithmeifyourecordit. But no. That, I—I don’t mind. Not one bit.”

 

“Oh, good,” Tony said, relaxing, a smile coming back to his lips just out of relief, and then he realized what else Steve had said, and froze. “Wait,” he said. Steve would be okay with it if he recorded him? He would? “Really? Do you mean that?”

 

Steve scowled. “Of course,” he said. “Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

 

“Can I—” Tony swallowed. Steve couldn’t consent to anything new, he reminded himself. They hadn’t negotiated for this. Steve was still down. Really down. “We’ll talk about that next time,” he amended. Though there was no guarantee next time would be any time soon, considering their lives. That was okay. It would be something to look forward to. A . . . really, really amazing something. He could wait a while for that.

 

Steve smiled a little, though he was still furiously red, in his face, down his neck, over his back, and turned his face back toward the pillow. “’S a deal,” he said.

 

“All right,” Tony said, smiling at the thought a little, even as he took a deep breath and braced himself for the next thrust into Steve. “A deal.” He shoved in again, hard, and Steve cried out, arching up to meet him, his eyes shut tight again.

 

Tony kept at that for another few strokes, Steve panting against the pillow, but the bed was a mess, and Steve was mostly lying in a pool of pre-come and come, plastered all over his front, sliding around in it, knees slipping up into the wet every time Tony thrust in, his arms braced how they were pretty much the only thing keeping him in one place on the bed, and though he was gloriously open for Tony from this angle—Tony wanted to try something different. And Steve loved riding, being in Tony’s lap, he was pretty sure it was his favorite, as far as penetrative sex went, anyway. “Hey,” he murmured, reached down to take Steve’s hip in one gauntleted hand, curled the other around the front of his shoulder. “Let’s change this up a little. Up on your knees, baby, yeah?”

 

Steve gasped a little. “Yeah,” he said, eagerly. “Yeah. I—I mean. Yessir, mister.” Tony shifted up, too, as Steve got his arms up under him, braced himself to move.

 

“Knees, that’s it,” Tony prompted, shifting with him to make sure he didn’t slide out of Steve entirely as Steve started to push himself up, straightened his back and swayed backward. The way the movement made Steve’s body shift around him was—something else. Steve didn’t really need Tony to talk him through it, his motions were easy, liquid and graceful despite the way he gasped heavily and flushed with each one as Tony’s cock was jostled inside him, his own cock bobbing between his legs, that wasn’t the point. “Keep your eyes closed. That’s it. That’s my good boy.”

 

The words kept them in sync with each other, too, moving at the same time, which was a good thing. Tony took Steve’s hand with one gauntlet, let him use it to steady himself as he settled back against Tony with a gasping intake of air, pulling out more of the armor at the same time—down his back, around over his chest, just enough to connect the backplate to the legpiece without pulling anything up over his thighs or groin that would catch either of them unpleasantly.

 

Steve arched up, moaned, face a picture of surprise as his back touched Tony’s metal-covered chest, his cock leaping, and Tony quickly reached up with one hand and covered his eyes. Steve moaned again, trembling, turned his head to the side and panted for breath. “Brace your knees on the bed,” Tony told him, nosing in behind his ear. “Sit down on me—yeah, right on my cock, like that, honey, that’s right, that’s just perfect.” Steve moaned, that same overwhelmed, pleasure-filled sound, panting, but let his muscles relax, let himself ease down around Tony until he couldn’t go any further, legs braced on the bed. The way he felt, sinking down on Tony’s cock, so hot and wet and open, his weight heavy on top of him, the way he was moaning, his own cock hardening obviously now, dark red and flushed—Tony buried his face in the back of Steve’s neck, couldn’t keep back his own moan, this time. He could feel a few drops of the lube Steve was dripping with trickle out around his cock buried in Steve’s ass as gravity did its work, wet pooling and slicking them where they were joined, and that hit him so hard he almost forgot how to breathe. Again. He let one hand fall to his hip, holding Steve there, and Steve moved one hand back to settle it at the back of Tony’s neck, tilted himself back against his body, and Tony was abruptly very glad of the extra strength and weight of the armor. “You feel so good,” Tony told him, overcome and breathless, barely able to speak. “So, so good.”

 

Steve’s head tilted back until it was lolling on Tony’s shoulder, baring his throat unabashedly. Tony went with him, kept that hand covering his eyes. “Mmm,” Steve moaned, let his head tilt in, rested his lips against Tony’s throat. “Tony.”

 

“You bet,” Tony told him, brushed his lips against Steve’s forehead, above the clasp of his own metal fingers over his eyes. “That’s me. I’m right here.”

 

“This is perfect,” Steve mumbled, reached up with his other hand, ran it over Tony’s armored arm, up to touch the backs of his fingers to his beard, brush them against his lips. “Thank you. Like to—to feel you.”

 

God, of course he did. Tony swallowed, throat suddenly thick again, leaned forward to press a kiss to those fingers. “Right, sunshine,” he said. “’Course.”

 

Steve smiled a little, snuggled in a little closer, if you could call it snuggling when it was a full body movement that irresistibly attracted Tony’s attention to every bit of his beautiful musculature as he arched back, spread his legs and shifted himself even more tightly back against Tony’s body, let his thumb brush against Tony’s lips before he dropped that hand to Tony’s thigh and braced himself. He must have wanted to touch his cock, which was painfully hard again and looked needy for it, but he didn’t, just gripped Tony’s leg and breathed, shifting his ass slightly, not quite settling.

 

“Think you’ll feel it, after this?” Tony asked, trying to keep his breath steady as Steve shifted above him, let him get comfortable despite the graceful arc of his body, which would probably be enough to get Tony’s briefs to feel a little tight even if he hadn’t actually been balls-deep in Steve’s gorgeous ass.

 

Steve grinned, sudden, sunshine-bright and stunning. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Yes. Tony, you’re the best.” He nuzzled in against his neck, left soft, damp little kisses there. “Best,” he murmured.

 

Tony smiled, couldn’t help it. Steve seemed so pleased, and that was all he’d really wanted, all along, to make him happy with this. If he was this happy, everything was good. Everything was perfect. He’d done a good job. He let himself nuzzle Steve back a little, curving his head in against Steve’s, just a little bit, took a deep breath, tried to keep himself on track despite the way he was smiling like an idiot. “Only the best for my boy,” he murmured against Steve’s cheek, practically against his lips, and Steve gave a smaller, more private smile, practically glowed. _My sweetheart_ , Tony thought. He squeezed Steve’s hip a little, stroking his metal thumb over the curve of the bone. “My good boy,” he added softly.

 

Steve made a noise of agreement. “Yours,” he said, tilting his head in even closer.

 

Tony took a deep breath, had to steady it again, pressed his lips in against Steve’s neck and breathed out once, twice. “Keep your eyes closed for me, honey,” he directed, nuzzling his lips against Steve’s ear, just for a moment. Steve nodded, kept his eyes obediently closed, his lips parting, shivering as Tony’s metal hand moved off his eyes and shifted down to grip under Steve’s thigh. Tony brought out more of the armor, making Steve jump a little as his gauntlets connected to the chestpiece, the back, and he used the armor’s strength to lift Steve, digging his fingers in at his hip, lifting him up with that hand under his leg. Steve gave an audible noise of surprise, squeezed his eyes shut tight, to keep them from flying open, Tony thought, breathing heavily, and his cock jumped, thudded against his belly. He whimpered as Tony pushed him up a little farther, sliding him up along his own cock, fingers clenching at the back of Tony’s neck, knotting up in his hair, and for a moment Tony was taking almost his whole weight and gritted his teeth at the strain even with the armor. It was worth it, though, to see Steve arching back against him, mouth open against his neck, feeling the shuddering quickness of his breath, the _way_ his back was arched, the perfect curve of it, his legs spread wide and the armor’s gauntlets biting into the skin of his thigh, his hip. Steve panted against his neck, Tony sucked in a breath through his nose, and let him back down, as slowly as he could manage it. The way the heat and soft, fluttering pressure of Steve’s body felt, settling down around Tony again—he would have closed his eyes, except he didn’t want to miss a second of the way Steve writhed in his arms, knee biting down into the bed, his whole body shivering, rippling and moving, the way he cried out, a series of short, sharp, breathless little noises as Tony sank back into him.

 

“You like that, honey?” Tony murmured against Steve’s cheek, and he whined into Tony’s neck, panting. His mouth was still open, lips parted as he gasped for air, and he just pressed closer, his lips catching a little on Tony’s skin.

 

“A-ah,” he said. “Hnnn.” His fingers tightened in Tony’s hair, and he pressed himself back against the chestplate of the armor. Tony could see where his sweat was starting to leave streaks on the metal and had to swallow. “G-God,” Steve said after a moment, sounding dazed, and swallowed, still panting.

 

“Mmm,” Tony said—that was a pretty clear answer, really. He traced his fingers up from Steve’s hip, along his chest, avoiding his cock but skimming one of them around his nipple. Steve squirmed on top of him, gasping. Tony could hear the slick sounds the lube made in his ass when he rolled himself down against Tony like that, and the movements jostled him, made his cock ache in the midst of all that warm, giving heat. He had to take another deep breath, told himself just a little bit longer. Steve was loving this too much to let it go yet. He had to hold off, just a little longer. “Glad you like it,” he purred. He reached down, curled his gauntlet around Steve’s cock, marveling at how hard it was, and Steve moaned, pushed up into it, jerking in Tony’s arms. Tony wondered if he was getting sore yet—after all, the metal of the armor couldn’t be giving him the smoothest slide, had to be rough, a little painful. Steve just moaned, though, jerked his hips, rolling them desperately against Tony, his cock up into his hand, and the feel of that was so—so sweet and wet and slick, and it made Tony’s mind swim, made him see stars. He stroked Steve one more time, cool metal sliding up and down over his cock, and then Steve was gasping, writhing, jerking up, coming unexpectedly, so that his body clamped down on Tony, fluttering around him, working at him, squeezing and shuddering around his cock, until Tony was slumped over, too, his face buried in Steve’s shoulder, gasping for breath and trying not to come. His gauntlet was really covered in Steve’s come now. Jesus.

 

It took a long time for Steve to come down from that, writhing and gasping over Tony, and even longer for Tony to recover, catch his breath again, think about anything other than the soft, tight, fluttering, slickly grasping pleasure of Steve’s body, the feel and smell and warmth of him. He gasped for breath into Steve’s shoulder, then, slowly, raised his head, pressed his cheek to Steve’s shoulder, closed his eyes and opened them again. He made himself take a deep breath, tried to get himself back under control.

 

“You came so easily for me after all,” he finally managed to breathe out. “You like me inside you that much, huh?”

 

“G-God,” Steve stuttered, sounding breathless and wrecked, the words punched out of him. “God, Tony, course I do. I-Iron Man.”

 

Oh, yeah, that was doing it for him, wasn’t it? Tony smiled a little, couldn’t keep back the desire to nuzzle in, press kisses against Steve’s shoulder, to his neck. It was just—it felt so good, to have Steve say that, to think that maybe he was getting off on the armor, and—in the old days, in the mansion together, he never would have imagined that, any of this, Steve saying Tony’s name, then Iron Man, linking the two, all slurred and loving and fond and pleasure-struck like that.

 

“Good,” Tony murmured, and it came out hoarse and rough and low, a little scratchy. “I’m glad you like it. Just feel it. Feel me there inside you.”

 

Steve moaned, soft but long, and tilted his head back until his damp throat was revealed to the air, his head rolling on Tony’s shoulder. He was gasping for breath, and Tony gave him a moment, just cupping his cock in his gauntlet, not stroking or tugging. Steve’s chest was heaving and he was flushed all the way down to his navel, hot and deep, dark rose-red, and he was beautiful, he was so goddamn beautiful he took Tony’s breath away. He still couldn’t quite believe he got to have this, even now, balls-deep inside Steve’s beautiful body, got to watch Steve gasp and shiver through the aftermath of his orgasm like this, his thick blond lashes jumping and shuddering against his cheeks, starry with sweat. He was smiling a little, loose and happy on his face, and Tony didn’t even know if he was aware of it, hoped it was because he was feeling so good. He couldn’t help it, leaned in and pressed a kiss to Steve’s hot cheek, against his cheekbone.

 

Steve sighed happily, and his eyes fluttered. “Tony,” he murmured, softly, his voice breathy and low.

 

“That’s me,” Tony murmured against his cheekbone, tasting the sweat over Steve’s skin, and Steve smiled again, slow and lazy. His smile still looked so sweet and soft.

 

“That’s you,” Steve agreed, slow and languid. He sighed once more, let out a breath that seemed to travel through his entire body, down to his toes, his lashes fluttering again, before he closed them, squeezing them tight, still obedient, even now. Steve felt so good around him, so tight and warm and hot, his body squeezing and releasing gently., and Tony kissed him again, couldn’t resist the temptation, and Steve just sighed, pressed up into the kiss, his lips parting so softly and eagerly beneath Tony’s, mouth wet and eager and giving beneath Tony’s lips, the soft swipe of his tongue.

 

Tony kissed him for long moments, slipping his tongue over Steve’s bottom lip, laving it gently over his tongue inside his mouth, relishing every soft little sound Steve made, the way his body trembled under the kisses, his soft little hitching breaths and the way he pushed up into it, before he caressed Steve’s cheek with the gauntleted fingers of his free hand and pulled slowly away, stroking Steve’s cheekbone as he did, down to his jaw. Steve sighed again, turned his face, nuzzling into the touch, his eyes still closed, as he licked his bottom lip, rubbed his cheek against Tony’s gauntlet. He was so adorably flushed, and for a moment Tony couldn’t take his eyes away, and then he finally recalled what he was up to, brought himself back to the task at hand, brushing a metal-covered thumb over Steve’s lips, unable to resist, and groaning at the way Steve pursed his lips to kiss at it, before stroking his gauntlet down over Steve’s jaw, his collarbones, the center of his chest between flushed, heaving pectorals. Steve groaned, jolted, gave a breathy groaning sound, almost a yelp, when Tony thumbed over one of his nipples, the soft bud high and tight and perking up needily, then squeezed it between the thumb and forefinger of the armor. God, the way that made Steve squeeze around him inside, work his cock—but that wasn’t what Tony was after right now, so he firmly pushed his own pleasure, his own desire to thrust up into that tight, welcoming heat, find a rhythm for his pleasure inside Steve, to the back of his mind for a while. The warmth and squeeze of Steve inside him, tight and warm and smooth wrapped around his cock, would be enough for him for now.

 

“Ready for more?” Tony asked, and it came out low, low and husky, rough in his throat. Steve moaned, then nodded unsteadily, head loose and a little jerky on his neck, tilted his head back against Tony’s shoulder and moaned again at the feel of the armor plating under him, baring his throat beautifully so that Tony just had to bring his fingers up, stroke along the strong, corded muscles of that beautifully bared, working throat. He laid his gauntleted hand over it and squeezed so, so gently, so that Steve could just barely feel the scrape of the repulsor, and Steve gulped, choked, jerked under him, his cock twitching, hardening in Tony’s hand. Tony smiled, let his gauntleted thumb swipe down over Steve’s sensitive tip until he jerked again, choked on his own saliva, a little trickling out over his lips as they hung open, panting. Tony pressed in his thumb, feeling the smear of precome, the way Steve jerked under him, the way it squelched and spread out around the metal of the armor. Steve was always so sensitive, right there, in his tip, his slit, especially after he’d come.

 

Tony teased him for a moment more, running his thumb back and forth, letting his eyes slip closed as he just—luxuriated in the way Steve was reacting, twitching and arching and moaning, squeezing around him inside, working his cock like a champ with his clenching, beautifully rippling muscles without even realizing it, just let himself feel it for a moment, riding it, then let it slide off, let his first metal-covered finger slide down to stroke back and forth just under Steve’s cockhead, against the place just beneath the head of Steve’s cock where he was most sensitive, pressing down against the tightly wrinkled skin of his retracted foreskin. Steve shivered again, all over on top of Tony, down to his toes, and tossed his head so that it rolled loosely on Tony’s shoulder, moaning wetly so that it left his mouth shiny and slick, and Tony could hear him choking on it again. “Good boy,” he murmured, “Good, sweetheart, so good,” and he could see Steve smile, soft and pleased on his lips. “That’s it,” Tony said. “Now, Steve, sweetheart, don’t come, all right?”

 

Steve whined a little, his mouth falling open, panted, but then he swallowed and said, “Yes, sir, no, sir, I won’t come.”

 

“That’s it,” Tony said again, “no coming until I say, until I give the word,” and Steve nodded again.

 

“No coming until you give the word,” he repeated softly, breathless and obedient, fists clenching and unclenching, and God, it was still such a rush to see him like this, felt so surreal, to have Steve this obedient for him, because, lord, when was he ever so pliant and obedient, ever in his life, but here, here he just let go, let Tony tell him what to do and obeyed easy as anything. Tony had an idea that Steve had been wanting that more, lately, with the responsibilities he’d landed up with. Tony couldn’t resist, stroked his hair gently back from his face with his other gauntlet, brushed his thumb firmly over Steve’s soft, swollen, pillowy-full bottom lip, all slick and puffy already, letting it catch and drag over the soft flesh and push it in to catch on Steve’s teeth, and Steve moaned, before Tony brought it away. He adjusted Steve over him, pushing his thighs down with his gauntleted hands until they spread wide over Tony’s own thighs, centering his hips so that they sank down just a little bit more over Tony’s, nudging and teasing Tony’s cock instead of him until Steve was biting his lip and Tony was swallowing hard himself, pleasure throbbing through him, making him feel hot all over, sweat dripping down his forehead. He took a deep breath, forced the pleasure back, leaned his forehead against Steve’s damp hair, just for a moment, and squeezed Steve’s thick, muscular thighs with his gauntlets, before he left one there, keeping Steve’s legs spread wide, steadying him, and curled the other around his red, sensitive dick, already hard and needy all over again, and squeezed it, too.

 

Steve moaned, his head tipping back over Tony’s shoulder, over the metal covering the ball of Tony’s shoulder joint, his eyes still shut tight, his mouth sagging open. His hand gripped at Tony’s hip, slipping and sliding on slick metal, the other coming up and clinging to Tony’s gauntleted forearm as he panted softly. “That’s it, fella,” Tony murmured, “just let yourself feel it, you pretty thing.” He squeezed gently at Steve’s thigh again, then started to stroke his cock with his gauntleted hand. Steve moaned, bit at his bottom lip, pushed up into the touch, making himself flutter and pull up against Tony in a dizzying, intense sort of way, sending a wave of pleasure through him, even as his head tilted back, falling back even further against Tony’s shoulder, baring his throat. Tony moaned, caught his breath against it, pressed his lips in against Steve’s neck for a moment before he pulled away again. “That’s it,” he murmured again. “So gorgeous. So, so gorgeous. My gorgeous guy.” Steve whimpered, still rolling his hips, fucking himself up into Tony’s grip, panting, his mouth falling open now, and Tony wondered how sensitive he had to be after all this, how overstimulated.

 

He slid the gauntlet’s thumb over Steve’s sensitive cockhead, watching with wonder as he flinched a little, trembling all over and going red down to his thighs. He kept his hand stroking over it back and forth, back and forth, until Steve was gasping, his chest heaving, whining a little in his throat, going bright red and hot all over his skin, then drew it away gently with another kiss to his neck and concentrated on just stroking Steve’s cock with the metal fingers and palm, picking up his balls and squeezing gently, then going back to his rhythm, up and down, down to Steve’s balls, to finger and press in at his perineum, putting pressure there, pressure he knew Steve could feel inside where he was all full up with Tony until he gasped, shuddering, legs jerking, then back up again, again and again. He kept at it until he was certain Steve was close, could feel his balls drawing up, the way he was jerking, gasping in Tony’s arms, lips wet as he gasped for breath, and then he drew his hand away from Steve’s cock, curled the damp metal of his gauntlet over his thigh again, pressing down just enough to still Steve when he jerked, whined, made a noise of loss.

 

“Remember?” Tony murmured, nipping lightly at the soft pink shell of Steve’s ear, sucking lightly at the soft lobe. “Don’t come.”

 

Steve panted, tossed his head, tried to squeeze his thighs inward, together, but Tony’s solid grip wouldn’t let him, and he trembled, groaned, rocked back against Tony helplessly, then, slowly, went limp against him, all without opening his eyes. The way his body squeezed tight, spasmed around Tony—it was amazing, overwhelming; he had to shut his eyes tight, bury his face in Steve’s neck, trying not to rock up into him too much, to chase that pleasure, sucking a bit at the salty sweat at the base of Steve’s hairline to distract himself, even as Steve slowly relaxed against him, around him, his head tipping back against Tony with a little huffing breath, a little whine. He licked his lips once, twice, breathing unsteadily, swallowing hard, and Tony could tell he wanted to say something, probably something a little mouthy about wanting to come, but he bit it back and went limp, muscles loosening and going soft against him, instead.

 

“That’s it,” he said, and the words came out of him low and soft. “Good boy. Good, good boy.”

 

Steve smiled a little, a warm soft easy smile, broad with pleasure. His lashes fluttered over his eyes, but he didn’t open them.

 

“Yeah,” Tony mumbled. “That’s it.” He kissed Steve’s neck again, then rolled his hips, slightly, still holding Steve’s thighs, enjoying how he shivered all at the movement, the way he gasped. He kept that low, slight movement up, rocking his hips just slightly, partly because it felt so good, a constant building thrum of pleasure, a constant tease, and partly because he could see how it was affecting Steve, the aching hardness of his cock, the way it twitched, throbbing, in the loose grip of Tony’s gauntlet even with no other stimulation. Tony could hear the strain, the gasp, in his own voice when he spoke again—Steve just felt so _good_. “You’re doing so good for me,” he muttered, and Steve smiled again, slid one hand up to close around the back of Tony’s neck, pressed his face in against the curve of it so that Tony could feel his smile against his collarbone, and God, if that wasn’t the sweetest thing—“You ready for a little more?” he asked.

 

“I’m ready,” Steve said, a soft, breathy slur of the words.

 

“You sure?” Tony asked, and Steve just nodded. “Don’t come,” Tony ordered, once more, and started to move his gauntlet over Steve’s straining cock again, just stroking, touching gently. Steve moaned, long and low, arched his back, but he didn’t struggle, just clenched his hand at Tony’s neck and shivered as his cock grew ever more red and angry, hot and hard against the gauntlet.

 

Tony kept him there for what felt like forever, squeezing at his base or his balls to hold off his orgasms, or rubbing the metal thumb over the armor over Steve’s over-sensitive cockhead in a way he knew sent a spike of pain through him until Steve flinched and moaned and curled inward over his stomach and started to soften a little. It was incredible how well Steve held off for him, even with his earlier orgasms—Steve, who was always so quick to come, found it so easy. But he dug his nails into his palms and bit his bottom lip and every muscle in his body strained with how hard he was fighting it. Tony just enjoyed the spectacle of it, the feel of him around his cock, yeah, but even more than that, just being able to see Steve submitting so completely, eyes shut tight in willing, obedient submission, struggling against his own orgasm, which Tony knew he had to desperately want, the full body flush over his skin, his damp sweaty hair and sweat-slicked skin, the hot hard, deep red cock in his hand, against the metal of the armor’s gauntlet, the loose slide of Steve’s foreskin up over his head and then back down as Tony jacked his cock, revealing a red and angry slick, messy cockhead, smeared with precome that was dripping audibly between their legs onto the bed, how red and raw the sensitive tissues looked.

 

Tony didn’t leave off until he started to hear a tremble in Steve’s loud, gasping breaths, then, finally, he stilled, brought his hand away. Steve shook his head, moaned, pressed his face into Tony’s neck, gasping heavily for breath, and Tony raised one hand, stroked metal fingers gently through Steve’s hair, held him close as he tilted his head to press a kiss to his forehead. “You doing okay?” he asked, and it came out hoarse and low, soft.

 

“N-Never better,” Steve gasped out, and it was soft and rough and stutter, dazed, but there was so much warmth in it, too. He sounded—he sounded—well, maybe Tony was just reading into it, but it was so, well, loving. Tony stroked his fingers through his hair again, cradled his skull gently.

 

“I’ve gotcha,” he said, “you know that?”

 

Steve gave a soft, pleased sounding sigh, and something relaxed in him, all through him, his head tilting closer. “Yessir,” he said, and Tony just—he had to smile, emotion, warm and thick, bubbling up within him at that.

 

“Yeah,” he breathed, and it came out in a rasp. “You doing okay? Ready for more?”

 

“Yes, please,” Steve said, a little more firmly. “Please, I want more.”

 

“Even if you can’t come yet?” Tony asked, tracing Steve’s ear gently with one metal finger.

 

Steve groaned, but he nodded right away. “Yes,” he said. “Want to, to do whatever you want me to do, Tony. Want to, to please you, Iron Man.”

 

God, that hit him right in the chest, right in the heart, every time. Tony had to swallow hard. “Well, all right, then,” he said, and damn, it came out so—so damn raspy and thick. “I think it’s time for you to do some of the work.” He squeezed at the back of Steve’s neck, traced one finger along his jaw, until Steve tilted his head, just a little, and he could nuzzle in close. “Gonna move for me, gorgeous?” he murmured in along Steve’s ear. “Gonna ride me?”

 

Steve took a moment to respond, still gasping against Tony’s neck, his hand tight in his hair, but then he nodded, swallowed again, got his knees under him against the bed, on either side of Tony’s hips. “Yessir,” he said, his voice so low and raspy and breathless it almost didn’t sound like him.

 

Tony reached up, put both hands on his hips, cupping his fingers against the curve of Steve’s ass, and squeezed. “That’s a good boy,” he said. “Up.”

 

Steve groaned, but he pushed up with his knees instantly, effortlessly, sliding himself up on Tony’s dick again, until it was nearly sliding out of him, and then stilling, holding the position. God, Tony thought, swallowing through how that felt, when Steve moved, it—Jesus—his own breathless lust, catching in his throat, dizzying. Steve was so—so good. He was so good, so perfect. He squeezed Steve’s hips again, pressed down. “Down,” he said, and Steve sank down again, instantly, with a sigh against Tony’s neck, his head lolling back. Tony barely breathed the whole time. Steve felt incredible, and he clenched up a little on the way down and—he panted math into the back of Steve’s neck, differential calculus, the changing slope of Steve’s back. “So good,” he said, when Steve was settled on him again, and he could breathe, and think about things other than curves and functions and _pleasure_ —and Steve groaned. “So, so good, peaches, it’s crazy.”

 

Steve smiled a little against his neck at that, so he was still tracking on most of what Tony was saying. “Up again, for me,” Tony said, and Steve lifted up obediently, and hell Tony couldn’t believe he was actually waiting for each direction like that, he was—he was something else. He squirmed a little when Tony just held him, tracing the soft inside skin of his thighs, and his head fell back against Tony’s shoulder as he panted. “Shh,” Tony soothed him.

 

Steve scowled at him, his eyes still closed, but held his hips in the same place, even as Tony reached back, used one armored finger to trace the place where they were joined, and he clenched his fingers so tightly in Tony’s hair that he thought he might pull some of it out and tossed his head, lips parting on a low breathy noise. Tony patted his ass and squeezed his hips again, against the curve of his ass like before. “And down,” he said, and Steve dropped down, panting heavily, his face very red and real sweat starting to show along his collarbones. Tony panted through the jolt of pleasure himself, pressing his face in against the curve of Steve’s neck, barely able to think of anything else for a moment (Steve’s ass still sounded so _wet_ , and there was lube and come on his thighs now), then rubbed at Steve’s hips, along his thighs. “So you know what to do,” he said. “Move for me, beautiful. Go on, at your own pace.”

 

Steve lay there, draped over Tony and braced on his knees, for a moment, panting, breathing through his nose, and then he licked his lips. “Can I,” he started, thick and hoarse. “Can I—until I come?”

 

“Tell me when you’re getting close,” Tony told him, and kissed his forehead, to take the sting off that, since he knew it sounded like he planned on denying him, and Steve groaned like he’d said he was going to make him wait hours. But he nodded, all the same.

 

“Yessir,” he whispered, and lifted his head up. Tony gripped his hip with one hand and covered his eyes again with the other, and Steve relaxed at that, even as he pushed himself up again, mouth sagging open again as he slid up along Tony’s cock.

 

He went faster than Tony had had him going, which was no surprise to Tony, arching back and rolling his hips, picking himself up and slamming himself down. Tony was torn between watching and just trying to hold onto the shards of his own control, shredding the inside of his lip, his tongue, he was biting down on it so hard. Steve was gorgeous, beautiful like this, a work of art, muscle and movement and radiant with sweat, and Tony could feel all of it against him, every flex and twitch of Steve’s big, muscular, writhing body, even through the armor, which was a whole new thrill, the way it served as a hard, impermeable barrier between them, the way Tony could look down and see Steve’s flushed skin spread out over the red and gold metal between his thighs, against his back, the fingers biting into his hip, closed over his eyes, now smeared with Steve’s sweat and the rest of the mess he was covered in. The way Steve was moving back against him, rolling his hips, the sheer electric pleasure of the rhythm he had set over Tony, the slick soft needy clench of him inside, how hot he felt, every little breathless _ah_ or grunt of pleasure, the _sounds_ he made—Tony felt like he was just barely holding onto lightning, like he was wrestling a force of nature tamed by its own will, nothing to do with him at all. He was going to come, soon, he knew it, but he just wanted to hold on long enough to give Steve a good ride first.

 

“Look at that,” he whispered, hoarsely. “I know, you can’t,” he brushed his thumb against Steve’s sweaty temple, gently, “but damn, Steve, you’re gorgeous, the way you’re moving, like you can’t get enough—you know how good you feel inside? You fit just perfect around me.”

 

Steve groaned, his cock twitching a little more. Tony held his hip still, dug in his fingers to drag him over, give him a slightly better angle, and Steve moaned aloud, long and breathless and unashamed. Tony groaned himself, as Steve clenched up a little around him, clutched at him inside, swiveling and rolling his hips as he jerked himself up and down to get more of that pressure against his prostate.

 

“There you go, sweetie,” he managed. “That’s good, isn’t it? Feels good.”

 

“Tony,” Steve moaned.

 

“Right here, baby,” Tony assured him.

 

“’re you gonna,” Steve panted, moaned again, hand slipping free of Tony’s hair, catching against his neck again. “Please, please. Wanna. Wanna feel it. Wanna feel . . . .”

 

Oh, God. Well, that wasn’t going to help him hold back at all, that was for sure. Tony breathed out raggedly into Steve’s back. “Oh, yeah,” he managed after a moment. “I’ll come inside you. Fill you up. You’ll be dripping with it.” _More than you already are_ , he thought, and okay, wow, a few more thoughts like that and he would be done.

 

Steve arched, cried out, his fingers digging into the back of Tony’s neck, and there that was, it seemed like no matter what they did when it was this intense Steve left bruises on Tony somewhere (not that Tony minded at all, really).

 

“You’re making it so good for me, sweetheart,” he managed to think to say, and he could see it as Steve smiled, even rolling himself up and down on Tony’s cock like he was.

 

“Good,” he breathed out. “Want it to be good. Want to make it good for you.”

 

“You do,” Tony said instantly. “Jesus, Steve, you do. Every time.”

 

Steve smiled a little more. “Do I feel good,” he mumbled.

 

Tony wasn’t sure if he was teasing him, fishing for compliments, or if he just wanted to be praised, told how good he was, or a combination of both. Steve was a complicated guy, and he figured it was probably both. But it was ridiculous to claim that he didn’t feel good, and Tony didn’t want to do anything other than praise Steve anyway, so he just said, “So, so good, honey, nothing else compares, nothing, you feel amazing, you’re ridiculous, you’re perfect,” and Steve smiled even more, wide and soft, as he kept moving, a little slower now. Tony put both hands back on his hips and thrust up into him a little, and that surprised a little cry out of Steve’s lips. His cock jerked. Tony shifted him until he had exactly the angle he wanted, then thrust into him again, timing it with Steve’s slide down, and Steve cried out again, louder, gasping.

 

“So good,” Tony growled, with barely enough thought for the words, but he was, the feeling of his body around him sending bright bolts of pleasure straight to his brain, to his cock, and he wasn’t going to last, especially not with Steve crying out like that every time he thrust up into him and nailed his prostate, like his brains were so scrambled from pleasure and spaced out that he’d forgotten the quiet stoic half-embarrassed soldier thing that usually kept him so quiet. Steve was moving at Tony’s pace again in a half second, rolling his hips down onto him, squeezing him tight inside, and Tony thrust up into him four times, five, six, and then came, throwing his head back on a moan. He told the armor not to drop him on the floor and then tipped his head forward between Steve’s shoulder blades and panted. He could hardly see, everything white hot pleasure and blue-white arching loops across his vision for a second, and then he was just . . . drifting, all wrapped up in Steve’s body, and it was like he didn’t remember where he ended and Steve started for a second. A few seconds, maybe. He could hear his own breathing very loud in his ears.

 

Steve was a prince, (and stuff like this was how you could really tell, Tony had figured for a while) because Tony knew exactly how impatient he was, but he just dropped his hands to links his with Tony’s on his hips, and tilted his head forward, gasping heavily, and only wriggled over him a tiny bit. He worked himself inside, too, around Tony, breath wrenching with each little contraction of his muscles, until Tony patted his side to still him, squeezed his hand. He let Tony slide his arms around his middle and didn’t even make a fuss about his neglected cock, even as Tony kissed the back of his shoulder, up along his neck, ran his tongue along the sweat at his hairline, mouthing gently at the bruises that were reddening the skin there. Steve tipped his head forward and to one side to let him and shivered and Tony panted into his skin.

 

“Did that feel good?” Steve mumbled after a minute, and Tony couldn’t see his face from this angle, but he was pretty sure he was grinning.

 

“Ha,” he said. “What do you think?” His own voice sounded scratchy, low and raspy.

 

“It felt pretty good for me,” Steve said. His voice was so lazy and soft and slurred that Tony knew he was still down, even if he was snarking it up.

 

“Yeah?” he said. “You liked that, sweetie-pie? Like me coming inside you?” Jesus, but—in for a penny, right? “Like Iron Man’s come messing you up?”

 

“Oh, God,” Steve said, voice shaking a little, and the armor registered Steve’s cock where it leapt up against Tony’s wrist at that.

 

“I think you do,” Tony murmured. “I think you wanted that for a long time, Winghead.”

 

“Yes,” Steve said, sounding strangled. “Hell, yes, I do. Did. Want. Iron Man. You. Oh, God, Tony.”

 

Tony pressed his mouth in closer against Steve’s neck, took a deep breath. “I wanted you, too,” he whispered.

 

Steve groaned, long and low. “Now you have me,” he said. “I’d—I’d like you to keep it that way. If you . . . don’t mind.”

 

Mind? Was Steve crazy? As if Tony would _mind_ , as if he could ever _mind_ having him, having _Steve_ , the way he’d put it. “The feeling’s mutual,” he said, roughly, though it was as evenly as he could, and his voice came out thick and gruff.

 

“Good,” Steve said, and Tony didn’t think he was imagining it that his voice sounded a little gruff and terse, too, so maybe they were both feeling a little overcome.

 

He kissed the back of his neck one more time, squeezed him a little around the stomach, a hug he couldn’t help himself from giving, and Steve just melted on top of him, relaxed against him and sighed. Tony held him close, let his eyes close just for a second, to enjoy it, then blew his breath back out and skimmed his gauntleted hands up over Steve’s chest, teased and pinched at his nipples a bit. Steve startled and blew his breath out through his nose, and Tony thumbed over them, smiling against his neck. “You’re being very patient, champ,” he said.

 

Steve _blushed_ , brilliant red, and ducked his head, off to the side. “You didn’t say,” he mumbled. “I wanted you to. You were feeling good.”

 

Something warm settled into Tony’s chest at that. “I was,” he said.

 

“I can be patient,” Steve said, a moment later, sounding a little bit put out, like he’d thought about it and decided Tony didn’t have enough appreciation for his stamina.

 

Tony grinned a little at that. “I don’t think you’d enjoy it if I thoroughly tested that statement,” he said.

 

Steve shifted a little uneasily, and it felt unfairly good on Tony’s cock. “I can,” he insisted, squaring his shoulders a little.

 

He never backed down. “I’m sure,” Tony said, smiling. He was sure of it, too, it was just that Steve was so impatient in bed, especially when he subbed, most of the time. “I should see if you’re willing to put your money with your mouth is—” Steve sighed, noisily, and his head fell back, like he was wondering why he’d started this “—but I really want to see you come,” Tony finished. Plus, he wasn’t about to punish him for being sweet.

 

“You can do it next time?” Steve mumbled.

 

“We’ll see,” Tony said, pressing a kiss just behind his ear, still smiling. He really didn’t have any intention of making Steve wait too long—he gritted his teeth and bore it, but he didn’t _enjoy_ holding off, and it was far more fun for both of them to get him to come again and again until he could barely move. But maybe he’d make him squirm, a little. Just so he didn’t think Tony was going too easy on him.

 

He rolled his hips, thrust up into Steve a bit, and he gasped sharply. He was really wet inside now, and even as Tony tugged Steve down a little further on his softening cock, he could feel a warm trickle of come (and probably lube, too, come to think of it) slip out of him, down along his balls. “Damn,” he whispered. Steve just moaned, panting for breath.

 

“Please, Tony,” he said.

 

“We’re getting there,” Tony told him. “I’m not going anywhere.” He reached up, put his hand gently back over Steve’s eyes. “Focus up, sweetheart.” He brushed the thumb of the gauntlet over one eyelid, then the other. “Open your eyes,” he said, keeping his hand angled over them to shade them a little.

 

Steve’s eyes snapped open, and his breathing sped up. “A-ah,” he said.

 

“Bright?” Tony asked, softly. “I’ve got you.”

 

“Whoa,” Steve said. “I’m a little dizzy. Jeez.” He laughed again, and Tony could see the wide, loose, sloppy grin on his face.

 

“Take a second,” he suggested. “You did so well, Steve. You really did. Keeping them shut that long, just because I told you to. So amazing, honey.”

 

“I like it when you trust me like that,” Steve said quietly. “You didn’t make me wear a blindfold, you just asked. You knew I could do it.”

 

“Of course I did,” Tony said. His throat felt thick again. Steve always did this to him whenever they did a scene like this. Every time. Got him all emotional. “Why wouldn’t I?”

 

Steve smiled.

 

“More like that,” he suggested.

 

“Sure thing,” Tony said. “I’ll put it in the book.”

 

Steve sighed, sounding pleased. He blinked, and Tony figured he didn’t need long to adjust. Super soldier and all that. He noticed Steve’s focus on the interlocking plates of the gauntlet above his eyes, the joints, and waggled his fingers teasingly. “You like it as much now?”

 

Steve sighed like he was auditioning for the role of a princess in a fairy tale. “Like it,” he said. “Hell.”

 

The adoring look in his eyes was exactly the sort of way people should be looking at the armor, in Tony’s opinion.

 

“Okay,” he said, and touched the tip of one finger to Steve’s bottom lip. “Eyes on it, then.” He skimmed it down over Steve’s chest, flicking one nipple, just to make Steve squirm and bite his lip, then curled it around Steve’s cock. Steve gasped, sharp and loud, and Tony spared a moment to wonder if he were close just from the way the gauntlet looked wrapped around his red, straining cock. If he was, he empathized. “I gotcha,” he said, wrapped his other gauntlet around Steve’s hip, and Steve sucked in his breath, jerking up in a way that made him bounce on Tony’s cock, a little more warm come trickle out of him, and God, he was still so warm inside. That made Steve gasp, too, and Tony dragged his hand up along him, unable to look away from the sight of it himself, the metal sliding slowly up along Steve’s desperately flushed length, but he could feel Steve’s focus on his hand, hear the way he was panting, loud and desperate, like an average person might sound if they’d run for miles. Steve’s hand came up, flailed up, really, dug in at the back of Tony’s neck again, and then Tony thumbed over the tip, and he moaned, almost wailed, it was so loud, arched his back.

 

Tony squeezed a little, looked up to make sure Steve’s eyes were on his own cock again (his cheeks were so red, oh, jeez, he was blushing, and the armor provided the exact degree of the heat of that blush and Tony had to swallow), then slid his hand back down, jerked Steve a little faster, settling into a good pace. The armor was letting him know the temperature of Steve’s cock, too, so hot, the rate of his breathing, his heart rate (elevated, oh, God, Tony had done that to him, his heart was pounding)—and Tony could barely breathe for looking at him when Steve came with a gasp that sounded like Tony’s name, jerking forward a bit, curling down over his chest. Tony caught the come in the gauntlet, this time, more than a little distracted by how it looked splattering over the metal, then wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulled him back against his own chest as Steve panted and panted and panted. He could see the glossy, overwhelmed sheen in his eyes, but he’d kind of expected that, after he’d made him work and wait for that one. “Shh, shh, sunshine,” he said, pressing kisses into his hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. You’re good. You did so, so good. Take your time, just take your time.”

 

Steve breathed heavily for a long time, sputtering a little when his throat caught, his chest heaving, so Tony made his words even more soothing and soft, told Steve he was beautiful, and perfect, and wonderful, and amazing, how he pushed himself, how he never stepped down from a challenge, how wonderful Tony thought he was, stroked that one hand down over his chest until he started to calm, come back to himself a little.

 

“Doing good?” he asked.

 

“Wow, Tony,” Steve said. His voice was very hoarse now. “That was incredible.”

 

Tony smiled. “Oh, well, you know,” he said. “We had a few hours.”

 

Steve huffed out a rough laugh. “Jesus,” he said, “sure, yeah. Just killing time.” He blinked, opening his eyes a little more.

 

“It’s a hobby,” Tony said, grinning now. He lifted his gauntlet, held it to Steve’s lips. “Clean up for me, cupcake?”

 

Steve gave him such a look at that, but he didn’t hesitate, either, just leaned forward and sucked the fingertip of the armor into his mouth. Tony sighed, a little overcome at watching that, Steve’s pink lips closed soft around the metal fingertip, his eyes half-closed and heavy. He cleaned each of the fingers, thoroughly, ran his tongue in between them, then took Tony’s metal-encased wrist in his hand as he licked down over the palm, closing his mouth sometimes and sucking if he reached a place where the come had started to get a little stubborn. He was way more thorough than he’d needed to be, but it was gorgeous and Tony felt a little dizzy when he was done.

 

Steve leaned forward, rested his cheek against the palm of the armor when he’d finished. “Spick and span, sir,” he said.

 

Tony grinned. He was such a shit sometimes. “And you’re an absolute mess,” he said.

 

Steve shrugged, smiled as Tony turned his hand, rubbed the armor’s thumb over his cheek, cupping it in the palm of the gauntlet. “You like me all messed up,” he said.

 

Well, that was true enough. He was unfairly beautiful, stretched out on top of Tony, Tony’s cock still deep inside him, splattered with his own come and slick with sweat, hair tangled and sticking up with it. “I like you any which way,” Tony said, which was also true. More true, even.

 

Steve smiled contentedly at that, and his eyes slid closed. Tony slid his hand back into his hair, and Steve sighed happily. Tony pulled the gauntlet back in, tangled his bare fingers in the strands, stroking them back, and pressed a kiss into it, feeling the messy tousle damp with sweat beneath his lips. “Mmm,” Steve said.

 

Tony pulled the armor back in over his other hand, then his thigh, his chest, his back, until it was just him, naked Tony Stark, sitting there cradling Steve in his arms, heavy as he was. He moved a little, intending to pull out of him, but Steve whined, clutched at his neck with one hand again, turned his face in toward Tony’s throat, and okay, he got the picture there. He wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist instead.

 

“You’re heavy,” he whispered in Steve’s ear.

 

“You can take it, Iron Man,” Steve mumbled. He shifted himself on top of Tony, blushing a little at the wet sound of it, but didn’t move to pull away, even as more come trickled down out of his ass. He was still just as hot around Tony, even softer inside, all loose and wet and fucked out and relaxed, and Tony wondered how sore he was, and how much of that was his motivation for wanting Tony to stay, and how much was just because he liked so much to be connected. Again, he figured it was a combination of both. After all, Steve liked the pain. His hand was sweaty against Tony’s neck, a warm, solid weight, and he hadn’t opened his eyes. Tony brushed his thumb along Steve’s ridiculously muscled stomach, just beside his navel. His skin was hot and sticky-slick from the pre-come and come from earlier.

 

“Are you falling asleep on me here?” he asked.

 

“Nah,” Steve said, but it took a second. “Just resting my eyes.”

 

“Sure,” Tony said, and laughed.

 

“’s true,” Steve said, and sighed, tilted his face in closer against Tony’s neck. “Not sleeping.”

 

He did seem sleepy, but Tony figured he was mostly just enjoying his space, and, well, that was exactly what he wanted him to be doing, so he just smiled and stroked the backs of his fingers down over his cheek. Steve smiled a little more.

 

“How’d I get so lucky with you,” Tony murmured. How had he gotten so lucky as to be with Steve, how had he gotten so lucky that Steve trusted him, trusted him again, somehow, after everything, enough to do something like _this_ , and then lie in his arms, loose and sated and relaxed and absolutely trusting, like he was now. That Steve wanted Tony, of all people, to see all of him, to see him like this, even the soft, sweet, vulnerable parts, and trusted him to carry that for him, to hold him when he was like that. _Now_.

 

“Likewise,” Steve said, which was absolutely ridiculous, of course, but just like Steve. “Must’ve done something good sometime, Tony,” he added after a moment.

 

Tony laughed a little, and he knew he was smiling crookedly. “Maybe in a past life,” he said, dry.

 

“You’re good to me,” Steve offered, smiling a little lopsidedly, himself, even as he turned his face even more tightly into Tony’s neck, like he was trying to drink him in. His hand was still so warm on Tony’s neck, too, his breath damp against Tony’s skin, surrounding Tony in his heat here, too, from both sides.

 

“That’s no trouble,” Tony said, smiling fondly now, and brushing his fingers lightly over Steve’s hair. “It’s easy to be good to you.”

 

“I’ll remember you said that,” Steve said.

 

“I bet you will,” Tony said.

 

“Yep,” Steve said. He smiled, again. “I will.” His lips closed lightly against Tony’s neck, a soft kiss. “No hardship to be good to you, either.” He left another soft kiss there, against Tony’s pulse. “Or good for you. I hope.”

 

“You’re always good,” Tony whispered, stroking one hand down Steve’s side, brushing it over his stomach.

 

“Not always,” Steve said, soft and still a little slurred around the edges. He sighed, shifted on top of Tony, and Tony gasped again at the way that moved his body, laid one hand on Steve’s thigh and stroked his thumb against the velvet-smooth skin. “But I’m doing my best,” Steve said, shivering pleasantly at the touches.

 

“Your best,” Tony said, teasing a little, lips against his forehead. “It’s not bad.”

 

Steve laughed, a quiet little huff of air this time. “Nah,” he said. “I do all right.”

 

“You work hard to be good for me,” Tony said, stroking his thigh with his palm now. “Thank you.”

 

Steve smiled at that, soft and pleased. “Yeah,” he said. “Thanks.”

 

“You earned it,” Tony said, and brushed another kiss against his forehead.

 

Steve’s smile widened, and his face slipped down further against Tony’s neck, against his shoulder. They stayed there like that for a moment, until he said, “I try to be good to you the rest of the time, too. Might not always get there. I know you’ll say it’s all good anyway. But I like trying hard for you. You deserve it, too.” He smiled softly up at Tony. “Shh,” he said. “I know what you’re gonna say.” He reached up, brushed his fingers against Tony’s lips. “Don’t. Don’t ruin it.”

 

“What am I going to say?” Tony whispered, pressing a kiss to Steve’s fingers, lips against his thumb. His throat felt thick again, his face too warm and his chest tight.

 

“Something about how anything you get from me is fine, or you don’t deserve it, or something like that,” Steve said. He brushed his thumb against Tony’s lips, back and forth, then turned his head a little, moved his hand to curl it back around Tony’s jaw, against his hair, letting his other drop down against his own side. “And that’s fine,” he said, all earnest with it, smiling, “don’t feel bad over it, but I love you, so, you know. Let me want to be good for you.”

 

Tony swallowed, felt all hot and fluttery inside, in his stomach and chest. The skin around his eyes felt tight and hot. “You don’t know,” he said, roughly. “How amazing you already are to me.”

 

“Maybe not,” Steve said, and put his head back down on Tony’s shoulder, against his neck. “But let’s not stop there. I thought you were all about building a better future.”

 

“I am,” Tony murmured into his hair.

 

“Better and better,” Steve said.

 

“I love you,” Tony said, thickly, against the crown of his head.

 

“I love you, too, Shellhead,” Steve said, quietly.

 

Tony pressed his face closer into Steve’s hair, tried to breathe evenly through the emotion welling up inside him, rubbing his palm against Steve’s thigh still. His chest hurt, but in a good way. He couldn’t believe Steve sometimes. All that, and this was what he came out with.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” he murmured. Steve shrugged, left a kiss against his shoulder, then his neck, again, nuzzled closer to his neck, dragging kisses up behind his ear.

 

“You’re a little ridiculous, too,” he said, voice soft.

 

Tony smiled. “Okay, granted,” he said.

 

“Good,” Steve said. Tony shifted back, to move out of him again, and he groaned, hand flying up to clutch at the back of Tony’s neck again.

 

“Gotta happen sometime, sport,” Tony murmured.

 

“Stay,” Steve said.

 

“I won’t be able to stay much longer,” Tony told him. He could already feel gravity working on them, dragging him down and out of Steve. “And I won’t be going anywhere, after, either.”

 

Steve sighed, shifted his hips back over Tony, dropped his head forward, bit his lip. His cheeks were a little flushed. Tony reached up, brushed his thumb over one of them.

 

“Okay,” he said. “Another few seconds.” His legs were falling asleep, and it’d be easier if they were lying down, of course, but he didn’t want Steve lying in the mess they’d made of the bed. So he just wrapped one arm around Steve’s waist, brought him in close. Steve clenched up a little around him, tilted his head back and sighed, low and long, his eyes closing. Tony didn’t say anything, just let him enjoy, stroking his stomach and side lightly. Steve shifted his palm down, curled the backs of his fingers against the pulse point in Tony’s throat. They stayed like that for another few minutes, and this time when Tony put his hands on Steve’s hips, moved to pull out, he sighed, heavily, but didn’t fuss about it, just let Tony coax him up a little, move him up off his cock. They were both kind of a disaster, Tony noticed with a grimace, come and lube pooled wet between their bodies, and more followed him as he pulled out. He sighed at the loss of that easy, wet heat encircling him, the slack grip and welcome hold of Steve’s body. Steve shivered and groaned, gasped as Tony brushed his thumb over his hot, wet hole, red and sensitive and a little swollen and puffy, soft and lax enough to open easily when Tony pushed at him, just a little. “You’re an absolute mess,” Tony told him, kissed the back of his shoulder.

 

Steve grinned, ducked his head down.

 

“And you love it,” Tony added. He slid his arms around Steve’s shoulders, held him for a moment more, letting him feel Tony’s body all up against his, for a long moment until he moved again. Steve settled back onto his knees with a sigh. Tony kissed the back of Steve’s head, then straightened up. “Okay, can you sit here like this for me, just for a second?”

 

Steve nodded. Tony moved around to his front, squeezed his shoulders. “I won’t be gone more than a few seconds, honey,” he told him. “Promise.”

 

Steve nodded again, and Tony kissed him, lightly, on the lips, felt Steve’s lips part softly beneath his. He brushed his hand through his hair as he pulled away. He didn’t like leaving Steve there, on the bed, not right after, but it would be nicer for Steve if he could lie down—he was swaying a little, on his knees, already, not like he was going to fall over, but just a little, like he wasn’t totally aware of it. Tony headed to the bathroom and collected an armful of towels, then headed back to spread them over the sofa, tucking them in over the cushions, underneath the edges, piled the three he had left over on the arm, then returned to Steve’s side.

 

His eyes were glazed, but he looked up when Tony stepped in close to him, smiled and brightened despite the daze. “Hey there, soldier,” Tony said, warm, letting one hand rest against his shoulder, and Steve smiled a little more.

 

“Hey,” he said. He reached up and ran his hand over Tony’s arm, back and forth over his forearm, up to his elbow and back down. “You’re still naked,” he observed.

 

“Indeed I am,” Tony said. “Why, appreciating the show?”

 

“Well,” Steve said, and grinned, not quite bashfully. “Yeah. Of course. Shouldn’t I?”

 

“Of course you should,” Tony agreed. “This is all yours to look at.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, his eyes going all soft. He put his other hand on Tony’s waist, brushed at his skin with his thumb. “All mine.”

 

Tony smiled, brushed Steve’s cheek with his fingers. “All right, big guy,” he said. “Up and at ‘em. On your feet.”

 

Steve frowned, but he obediently slid off the bed, planting his feet when he wobbled a little and taking a deep breath, steadying himself. He was such a mess Tony had to swallow, just _covered_ in it, smeared around his cock and trickling down his thighs, and it was a . . . sight, him standing there, totally naked, bruises starting to show at his hips, with his bare feet planted and his shoulders square. “Okay,” he said, “over to the sofa, c’mere.” He leaned in, kissed Steve, wrapped his arms around him as he kissed him slowly, mouthing over his bottom lip. They were good at moving together, and Steve followed him easily, wrapping his arms around Tony’s shoulders and leaning in, humming a little, low in his throat, as he relaxed into the kiss. His body felt very hot against Tony’s, as well as damp and a little bit sticky. When the backs of Tony’s legs hit the sofa, he ducked out from under him, got him turned around, and Steve sighed at the end of the kiss, but sat down obediently, gasping a little as his ass made contact with the sofa cushions. “Lie down on your side,” Tony directed him, and he did, swinging his legs up, let Tony cover his legs with a towel, then lay the others over his middle and arms. He pulled the blanket they kept on the sofa off the nearby chair and covered him with it a moment later, and Steve sighed, his eyes going half closed. Tony sat down just beside him on the sofa, where the curve of his body just barely left enough room for him, and reached out to stroke his hand through his messy hair. “You relax here,” he said. “Chill out a bit. I’m gonna remake the bed for us, but you can just lie here and chill.”

 

“Like a lazy bum,” Steve said, and smiled as he yawned.

 

“No, you earned it,” Tony reminded him. “Worked hard.”

 

“So did you,” Steve said. He reached out, rested one hand on Tony’s knee, pushed his cheek against his palm, turning it in toward Tony’s hand. “Gonna miss you,” he said, low and a little rough.

 

“I won’t be gone long, sweetheart,” Tony said, more softly, a little rough himself now.

 

“Mmm,” Steve said. He didn’t sound convinced. Tony leaned forward and kissed his forehead, curled one arm under his neck. “Wanna take a bath together, after?” he asked, “or just sleep?”

 

Steve smiled a little, slid one hand over Tony’s shoulder, stroked it down over his chest. “I’m a little tired,” he said, lips quirking.

 

“Wore you out?” Tony asked.

 

Steve’s little smile got a little bit wider. “Sure did,” he said.

 

“Do I get a medal for that?” Tony asked.

 

“I’ll get one made,” Steve said, smirking. “Tony Stark, God of Sex. Red and gold.”

 

“Ugh, Steve, tacky,” Tony said, making a face.

 

“Wear it at special occasions,” Steve said, rubbing his thumb at the appropriate place on Tony’s chest. “That’d be a good one for the papers, right?”

 

Tony snorted a laugh. “Oh, Jesus,” he said, because he was imagining it, and yes, that was one way to put it.

 

Steve grinned, his eyes crinkling up. “Naw,” he said. “’s my secret. All for me. They don’t get to find out.”

 

Tony kissed the corner of his eye. “That is no doubt for the best,” he said. Steve chuckled.

 

“Definitely,” he said.

 

“Am I all yours, peaches?” Tony asked, low, smiling at him, and Steve smiled even more widely.

 

“Yes,” he said, curling his arms around his neck, and kissed him. “My fella.” He bit lightly at Tony’s bottom lip. “My Shellhead.”

 

Tony felt warm. “I’m glad,” he said, soft against Steve’s lips.

 

“Good,” Steve said. His arms tightened around his shoulders. Tony kissed him one more time, then laid his head down, against Steve’s shoulder. He loosened his arms enough to let him, one coming up to curl in Tony’s hair, the other rubbing at his shoulder. They stayed there for a moment, Tony tracing shapes on Steve’s shoulder where his arm was still wrapped beneath his neck. Steve’s breathing was evening out, and his body felt more and more relaxed under the blanket where Tony was pressed up against him. Tony was glad. Steve wasn’t used to being tired, and worn out and spacey was a whole different thing, too. He was glad he was relaxed with it.

 

“So it hit all the high points?” he said, after a moment, and then bit the inside of his lip. He shouldn’t bother Steve with this stuff now.

 

Steve considered for a second, then nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and then he swallowed. “The thing with your—when you put your mouth on my, uh, my rear. I had—I know you’d mentioned it before, but I guess . . . I guess I just didn’t expect you to actually do it.”

 

Tony smiled. “Good, I hope,” he said.

 

Steve blew his breath out. “Oh, yeah,” he muttered.

 

“You should know by now that I back up my suggestions with action,” Tony teased him.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling. “Clearly. Consider that lesson learned.” He flushed a little more. “And the armor . . . Tony—I just . . . I . . . wow. Um. Wow.”

 

“You really do have a thing for it, don’t you,” Tony reflected, pleased.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, instantly. “I really do.” He smiled a little. “It’s amazing,” he said. “ _You’re_ amazing. Just looking at it—it still blows me away,” he added, a little bit more softly.

 

Tony smiled—what else was he supposed to do, at that?—and kissed him. He was even more lucky, he thought, fantastically, incredibly, unbelievably lucky, to have a lover who appreciated the armor half as much as he did—who loved it that much. He felt like he might be blushing. He knew he felt a little lightheaded. Steve pulled him a little closer, ran his hand up and down over Tony’s neck, and they stayed like that, just kissing. Tony let himself get lost in it this time, there was no reason not to, in the soft touch of Steve’s warm, welcoming mouth, the way he opened up for the kiss, pressed into it like he was pouring every fiber of his being into it, even as soft and slow as it was.

 

He was just glad it had been good. That Steve had enjoyed it. That he’d had a good time.

 

He pulled away what had to be long minutes later, and Steve sighed a little, but smiled at him as he pulled away, sat back. Tony kissed his forehead again, stroked his hair. “You just rest,” he said. “Take a nap. Whatever you want.”

 

“Don’t stay away too long,” Steve said, reaching out and taking his hand, squeezing it just a little. “I know you have a thing about . . .” he yawned a little more “. . . about cleaning up. But I just want you.”

 

“You’ll thank me when we can sleep in that bed ever again,” Tony informed him, but he couldn’t help smiling. It was hard not to smile at Steve being so honest and sweet about it.

 

Steve shrugged, but he did let his eyes slip mostly closed and let Tony go, hand trailing out of his only slowly as Tony got up, then falling back to lie on top of the blanket as he turned to pillow his head on his other arm. Tony smiled back at him, couldn’t help it, as he moved across the room to start stripping the soaked, filthy bedclothes off the bed.

 

He didn’t really have a “thing about cleaning up,” as Steve had put it. Okay, maybe he had a little bit of one. It was part of his job, he figured. He liked taking care of Steve—even after vanilla sex, he liked it. Steve didn’t care, he’d roll over into a wet spot and snore away, but Tony didn’t see why he should cater to habits Steve had picked up either as a poor kid in New York City or on the battlefields of Europe. Steve claimed somewhat proudly that he could sleep in a ditch, but Tony really didn't see why that had anything to do with the kind of sleeping they were going to be doing together. Ever, hopefully. Even if sleeping in a ditch might not be so bad, if Steve were there with him, and he was thinking things like that he knew he had it bad.

 

But then, he’d known that already.

 

And, well, Tony _didn’t_ like lying in wet spots, or knowing that there was come drying on him. It kept him awake. Besides, it was gross. He dumped the bedclothes, all of them, down the laundry, then went into the bathroom to clean himself up, just using a warm washcloth and some soap, not bothering to take the time for a shower. When he was done with that, he tossed the washcloth down the laundry as well and went back to remake the bed, keeping an eye on Steve while he did. It looked like he was dozing; his breaths were even and soft. His eyes flickered open every so often, flicked around the room as if looking for something, but when they settled on Tony he would smile and they would slide shut again.

 

It was sweet, made fondness for Steve well up in Tony’s chest, hot and fluttering and tingling and warm, every time he did it. But then, Steve was a big sweetheart, and Tony knew it. Sure, he was all tough and stoic and strong, but he was also a big giant sweetheart underneath all that, sentimental for all his quietness, soft-hearted and a little schmaltzy and a little corny, with enough aching emotion tucked away under all that self-restraint that Tony sometimes wondered how he carried it all inside that way, though he also kind of understood it—and it was wonderful to see him not bothering to hide it, like he was when he was like this, all soft and sweet and easy with it all. Tony loved seeing Steve so open like this, soft and affectionate, warm and just as sincere with it as always, like he felt totally free—to cling to Tony a little, to ask for more, whatever. To relax, really relax, and not carry anything for a while, not even a shield.

 

Tony finished with the bed and turned back the covers, then headed into the bathroom again, after checking on Steve once more. He was still relaxed and easy, eyes closed at the moment. So that was good. Tony wet a towel and headed back into the other room, pushed the coffee table back and knelt on the floor beside the couch.

 

“Hey, honey,” he said softly, leaning in to touch his lips to Steve’s, light and gentle. Steve made a pleased sound and leaned into the kiss, hand coming up to cup the back of Tony’s neck as he tilted his head into it, a few seconds before his eyes fluttered open. “Miss me?” Tony asked against Steve’s lips.

 

“Mmm,” Steve said. He smiled a little. “Yes.”

 

Tony smiled back. “Sorry about that,” he said. “You ready to get cleaned up?”

 

Steve shrugged, but kept smiling. “Sure,” he said. He was just . . . gazing at Tony, smiling a little. His eyes were very blue, especially this close up. He still looked pretty blissed out, Tony decided, eyes hazy. “Back or front?”

 

“I’ll do your back first,” Tony concluded, and Steve rolled agreeably onto his stomach, scooting down the sofa so his feet hung off over the edge and he could pillow his head on both his arms. Tony folded the blanket back over him, then back over the back of the couch, then moved the towels off Steve’s back. He started at the nape of his neck, moving down over his shoulders, and Steve sighed and shivered a little, relaxing under the touch of the towel. Tony had considered grabbing the soap, too, washing him off a little more thoroughly, but he figured they could get a shower in together later, and just rinsing the worst of the stickiness and mess off Steve would do for now. He was still thorough, though, getting the backs of Steve’s arms, underneath his armpits and down his sides, letting the towel drip, since it was just dripping on the other towels underneath Steve’s body or Steve himself. He could see bruises starting on the back of Steve’s neck, along his hips, over his shoulders, the places where he’d gripped him, dug in and pushed, and swallowed against a wrenching wave of guilt, a sick roll in the bottom of his stomach. Steve had wanted it, he told himself. Wanted it. It was all right. He still found himself touching his fingers to one of the bruises on his shoulder, skimming it up to one of those on the back of his neck and swallowing hard.

 

“Tony,” Steve said softly. “Leave it. It’s nothing. I told you. I like them. I _asked_ for them. Leave it alone.”

 

Tony bit the inside of his lip, sucked a breath in through his nose and firmed his jaw, moving his hand away to skim it down over Steve’s back, gently. “Of course,” he said. “Just checking.”

 

“You were beating yourself up over it,” Steve said, smiling back at him, his voice still lazy and slow, and his eyes soft. “And you don’t have to. Pretty much the opposite, actually. So quit it.”

 

Tony blew out his breath. “Forgive me for not liking to rough you up,” he said, and he knew it came out . . . tart and huffy, but he couldn’t help it.

 

Steve smiled back at him. “Okay,” he said, “I will.”

 

Tony shook his head at him, not quite sure what he’d have said. Steve’s eyes softened.

 

“I know,” he said. “It’s all right. I know it’s hard for you because you care about me.”

 

Tony swallowed again. He hadn’t had to just come out and say it like that, he found himself thinking. He looked down. Steve’s sincerity always threw him for a loop. You’d think he’d be used to it by now, but no. It still corkscrewed him around in midair.

 

“I just don’t want you feeling guilty for doing something I enjoy,” Steve said, turning his eyes back up and pillowing his face on his arms again. “Don't do that.”

 

“All right,” Tony said, after a moment, taking a deep breath. “I’ll do my best.”

 

“You’d better,” Steve said. “Tony . . .” he hesitated a moment. “I really do like it. I like a lot more’n that, you _know_ that.”

 

“I do,” Tony said. “I know. I get it, honey.”

 

“I’m lucky to have such a generous guy,” Steve said, after a moment, “I don’t forget that.”

 

“I get it, I get it,” Tony said. “You’ve made your point, Steve, Jesus.”

 

“Just as long as I have,” Steve said, but he let it go as Tony kept moving the towel down over the slope of his spine, sighed into his arms. Tony kept at that for a while longer, just letting Steve relax, skimmed it over the small of his back, then moved the other towel off him to move down and start on his wet, messy ass. A few passes over got the worst of it up, making Steve shiver and sigh again, then Tony folded the towel, skimmed it down between his ass cheeks, along the crease of his body, which made Steve really shudder. “Are you tender back here at all?” Tony asked, a little curious. “Sore?”

 

“Ah,” Steve said. “Yeah—a little.” He sounded half-embarrassed, half pleased, and Tony figured that pleasure was the reason for the embarrassment. Tony looked up, just to see if he were blushing, and wasn’t disappointed; a deep pink flush was burning on Steve’s cheeks.

 

He really did like feeling it after.

 

“From the fucking or the armor’s fingers, d’you think?” Tony asked, a little curious. He moved the towel up to hold it against the dip of Steve’s back again, moving the fingers of his other hand up to skim them over the glorious curve of one side of Steve’s ass. Steve obligingly spread his legs, let one of them hang off the side of the couch, giving Tony a much better view of his hole, which still looked puffy and wet and wrecked, and yeah, a little red and raw. Tony touched two fingers to the swollen rim of it, gently, and Steve didn’t hiss exactly, but he did make a sound in reaction, though it wasn’t exactly _pained_. “Yeah, you seem a little tender,” Tony said. It was his instinct to offer Steve something to soothe that, but he knew he wouldn’t want it. “I figure you don’t want anything to—” he started anyway, only to be interrupted.

 

“No, thank you,” Steve said quickly.

 

Tony smiled a little, shaking his head at him. “Okay,” he said.

 

“C’mon, Tony, that was barely enough to sting,” Steve said, grinning back at him from where his cheek was pressed against his crossed arms. “I like it. I just feel a little worked over; it’s perfect.”

 

Tony supposed he knew what he was talking about, after all. He rubbed his hand over Steve’s thigh, comforting despite himself, anyway.

 

“You can put your fingers in me again,” Steve said. “That’d be fine.” He sounded a little dreamy. “Maybe if we take a shower later and you screw me I’ll still be a little open for you.”

 

Um. God. Tony bit the inside of his lip. Hot. That was really . . . really fucking hot. That whole . . . sequence of thoughts was . . . yeah. “You are completely insatiable sometimes, you know that?” he asked. But he did move his fingers back up between the curves of Steve’s ass, pressed one finger inside him lightly, feeling how relaxed and lax and open Steve still was under that pressure, still all slick and wet with lube and come, just starting to be a little sticky. That was good lube, Tony thought, he was definitely getting more like that, as he reached up for the towel again, pressing two fingers into Steve now, a little more insistently, feeling for anything that seemed swollen or torn or off, watching Steve for any sign of actual pain. He didn’t think anything would be wrong, not with Steve’s resilient body, but he wasn’t going to act like him getting hurt didn’t matter just because he was a super soldier and didn’t really care if he got hurt doing this or not.

 

“You should know,” Steve said cheerfully, then groaned, low and drawn-out, in a way that sounded pleased, somehow. “Ahhh, that feels nice, Tony,” he said.

 

“I’m just checking you,” Tony informed him. Which probably could have been accomplished with a little less swirling of his fingers, this was true. But, as had already been established, Steve was enjoying it, and he was pretty much a pushover when it came to things Steve enjoyed. And a tease, he was that, too. Couldn’t stop now, after all, he had a reputation to uphold.

 

“I know,” Steve said, easily. “And it _also_ feels good.”

 

“Ha,” Tony said. “Fair enough, hon.” He pulled his fingers out of him and looked at them (not that he actually thought Steve would be bleeding, God no, especially not after all that lube), then wiped them on the towel beneath them, reached up for the wet one in his other hand to finish cleaning Steve up between his legs. He lifted his other leg up with an oof of effort after, and Steve laughed and poked him in the stomach with the side of his foot. Tony grabbed his foot and squeezed it, grinning at the playfulness. “Hey,” he said. “You’re heavy, and I don’t have the armor on to do the heavy lifting right now.”

 

“I know,” Steve said. “Sorry.” He sounded completely unrepentant. “There’s always weight-training.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony said, “like lifting your thousand pounds of muscle around.”

 

“That’d probably work,” Steve agreed, because he was a snarky bastard. “I’m always ready to try a new training technique. If you think it’d help . . . .”

 

“That oh-so-serious routine won’t work on me, Rogers,” Tony told him, already starting to rub down his legs. “I already know what a snarky piece of work you are.”

 

“That’s the point,” Steve said, laughing. “It’s only half as fun when people don’t get the joke.”

 

“But still fun,” Tony pointed out. He rubbed the towel down over Steve’s feet, enjoying it as his toes curled, then took them in his hands and rubbed a little, pushing his thumbs in against Steve’s arches. Steve sighed, arched his back a little, wriggling into the touch.

 

“That’s one of the things I always liked about you, Tony,” he said, smiling back at him after a moment, fond and sincere and almost a little shy again. “You always knew I had a sense of humor.”

 

Tony smiled and looked down at Steve’s big, perfectly shaped feet in his hands, knowing his smile was soft and a little stupid and not caring. “Well,” he said, softly. “You’re a funny guy.” He squeezed his feet and set back to rubbing them, working his fingers downward over the soles.

 

“And you paid attention to that,” Steve said, and sighed with pleasure some more. “You really don’t need to do that.” He grinned back at Tony again. “I’ve barely been on my feet at all today.”

 

It was clearly an innuendo, but he said it as straightforwardly as he would have said, “I ran a few miles” or “I was planning to get takeout.” Tony still couldn’t believe it sometimes, that he said stuff like that in that tone of voice. He grinned back.

 

“Yeah, you were otherwise occupied,” he said, and pushed his thumbs in against the sensitive places on Steve’s feet anyway. “That’s not really the point, champ.”

 

“And my feet don’t get sore,” Steve went on.

 

“You’re still missing the point, baby,” Tony told him softly, still rubbing, starting with the balls of Steve’s feet and working his way up now.

 

“Am I?” Steve said. “Hmm.” Tony looked up to see him smiling back at him.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “You are. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

 

“It really does,” Steve said, with a little bit of a laugh, so sincerely it made Tony smile back automatically.

 

“Then there,” Tony told him. “That’s the point.” He spent a little while longer on Steve’s feet, then moved his hands up, massaged his ankles a little, too, then wiped his hands on the towel and picked it up, throwing it back over his own shoulder. “Okay,” he said. “Sit up and spread your legs.”

 

Steve did it with a bit of a groan, scooting over a little to sit on a dry patch on the couch and letting his legs fall open without an ounce of shame. Tony folded the towel over to get at a clean place then scrubbed it down over his neck and chest, over his arms, not even really teasing at his nipples this time, just cleaning, until he was down to his waist, then knelt between his legs and finished wiping come off his cock and balls before folding the towel in quarters and wiping down his legs from the front this time.   He was surprised, halfway through, by Steve’s hand landing on top of his head, fingers stroking slowly through his hair, and looked up to see Steve smiling, wide and soft and open and a little goofy. Tony smiled back and ducked his head down to finish the task. It was awfully intimate, that was for sure, wiping Steve’s smooth, resilient skin clean, even in his most vulnerable places, where it was soft and tender and hardly anyone ever touched another person, and though you’d think it would be sexual, it really wasn’t, not right then, anyway. They’d been naked with each other quite a bit, and despite the emotional and sexual attachment Tony had to the sight, and to Steve’s dick, well . . . naked Steve was just Steve, that was all, and it was wonderfully, perfectly familiar. Tony grabbed one of the towels off the back of the sofa, one of the cleaner ones, when he was done, and wiped Steve down with it, then got up again with a groan. He had been in the armor, sure, but he’d still been through quite the workout today, himself.

 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, and Tony smiled at him reassuringly.

 

“Just a little tired,” he said. “You wore me out, too. You’re a handful, you know that, Rogers?”

 

Steve grinned. “Always have been,” he said, and let Tony reach down and get his hands beneath his shoulders, help him to his feet. He really didn’t need the help at all, but again, that wasn’t the point.

 

“That I believe,” Tony told him.

 

Steve smiled, once they were both standing, and leaned in, his hands curled around the backs of Tony’s arms, to kiss him, his eyes shining. “Yours,” he said, into Tony’s mouth.

 

“My handful?” Tony asked, and smiled against his lips. Steve nodded. “That sounds about right,” Tony said, and kissed him again, more deeply. They stood like that, kissing, for a few moments, Steve sighing into it, leaning into him, his hands skimming up over Tony’s shoulders, bracing at the back of his neck, his fingers sliding up into his hair. When they pulled away from each other, Steve didn’t move far back, kept stroking his fingers at the back of Tony’s neck.

 

“Your lip’s a little torn,” he said, with just a touch of a frown. “Shredded. Here.” He leaned in, brushed his lips softly along Tony’s bottom one, as if pointing it out.

 

“Yeah, I was biting it,” Tony admitted with a smile. “It kind of happens, with how hot you are and all. Besides, I was concentrating.”

 

“You held off so long,” Steve murmured. “You don’t have to, just to please me.”

 

“Hey,” Tony said. “Hey. Don’t go thinking it’s any kind of . . . hardship, honey. It’s the farthest thing from that, it’s—it’s a privilege.” He reached up, swallowed a little, but this was the kind of thing you _should_ tell someone who did this kind of thing with you. Who handed you that trust and wanted you to have it. He braced his hands against Steve’s face, cupping them against his jaw. “It’s an honor to please you,” he said, and put every ounce of sincerity he had into it, letting it stand on its own for a moment, looking into Steve’s eyes, so that he would know how much he meant it, despite how awkward it made him feel, the burning of his cheeks. “And I enjoy every _single_ second of it, trust me,” he added with a bit of a smile, moving his hands away again.

 

Steve flushed a little, too, but didn’t look away, and his eyes were just as sincere where they met Tony’s. “Good,” he said simply. “I’d want you to.” He curled his hands back around Tony’s neck, sliding his fingers up into Tony’s hair and curling them in, and tilted his head in for another kiss, eyes sliding closed as he did. Tony kissed him willingly, deeply, as Steve’s lips parted for him, as he opened his mouth eagerly for the kiss, as open and eager for Tony’s mouth on his as he had been every time yet. They spent a long time kissing, and Tony found himself curling his arms low around Steve’s waist, pressing them even closer against each other, letting their bodies settle together. Steve’s fingers splayed out on the back of his head, cupping his head even closer, and his hand felt very big and very warm there, combing through his hair like that. Tony wasn’t in any hurry to end the kiss, the soft wet clinging brushes of their lips against each other, the warm softness of Steve’s mouth, the huffs of his breath mingling with Tony’s, and it dragged out for long minutes.

 

It was so easy to get lost in kissing Steve. Especially when Tony started rubbing his hands up along Steve’s sides, along his back, the skin there just as smooth and warm and velvety to the touch as always, almost addictive feeling it under his hands, the way Steve shivered and pushed closer just at the simple caresses. It wasn’t even cuddling, what they were doing, standing so close together, locked at the lips, all wrapped up in each other, just touching and so close there was no real space between them at all. Tony felt that kind of hyper-focus he felt so often with Steve, like this especially, like he was falling down into him, almost dizzying, like he’d forget he even wanted to come up for air, ever wanted to stop.

 

Eventually, finally, and a little regretfully, they both pulled away, Tony skimming his hands down to rest at Steve’s sides at his waist. Steve just stood there for a moment, eyes closed and breathing evenly, his lips damp and puffy and well-kissed. Tony couldn’t resist another brief brush of his lips against Steve’s, then tugged at him gently. “Okay, sugar cookie, on the bed,” he said, and Steve smiled.

 

“Sugar cookie, really?” he said mildly, opened his eyes at Tony and smiled a little wider, but let Tony nudge him gently over to the bed with one hip and his hand on his back.

 

“All that, and that’s the one you complain about?” Tony asked, chuckling.

 

“Never said I was complaining,” Steve said. He slid into the bed, rolling over and looping one arm around Tony’s neck to pull him down into bed with him, and Tony braced himself on the bed, pulled back just a bit. Steve frowned.

 

“Just one second,” Tony said, “I need to put the towels in the laundry. I’ll be—” it was tricky to duck Steve’s attempts to grab and kiss him, even when he was only half-trying “—hey! I’ll be back in just a second. Come on, you octopus.” He pushed Steve back into the bed, laughing because he was grinning up at Tony. “I thought you were all about being frugal, taking care of your things,” Tony said.

 

Steve just shrugged. “We could be in bed together,” he said.

 

“It is a compelling argument,” Tony admitted. “Just. One second.” He ignored Steve calling after him to “get back here and do your duty, mister,” and ducked away to pick up the towels and toss them in the laundry.

 

“At least,” Steve said when he was walking back over to the bed, lying back on one arm folded behind his head, “it’s a nice view when you walk away.”

 

“Oh, you like that?” Tony asked, grinning at him.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, and smiled. “Turn around.”

 

Tony raised his eyebrows at him, smirking, but lifted his hands above his head and turned in a circle anyway.

 

“Stop,” Steve said when he was poised on a half-turn, and Tony looked back over his shoulder at him to see him smirking a little himself.

 

“What, you like my ass?” Tony asked, biting his lip, half because it was hot, and half because he had the urge to laugh a little inexplicably.

 

“I want to draw you like that someday,” Steve said, blushing a little now. He bit his own lip, looked down, but not away from Tony. His eyelashes ended up shading his eyes that way. “Sometimes you stand like that—just like that—in the armor and look back at me, and I always end up wondering what you look like underneath.”

 

Steve always got a little shy about the drawing thing. Tony wasn’t sure why it was apparently more embarrassing to talk about it than to do it (Steve never blushed like that while he was drawing), but Steve was like that about a lot of things, including sex itself.

 

“Well, I’d be happy to pose for you, honey,” Tony said, letting his voice drop into a seductive. “As long as you gave me some incentive.”

 

Steve raised his own eyebrows at him at that. “I think I could think of something,” he said. “Even if it might not be what you’re thinking. You’re a naughty fella, Mr. Stark.”

 

“You’re the one who likes drawing me naked,” Tony pointed out.

 

“You have a good body for it,” Steve said, easily. Tony was never quite sure if he meant that. His own body was nothing compared to Steve’s, but Steve made it perfectly clear he found Tony attractive, got a lot out of looking at him, so Tony figured he shouldn’t argue with it, whatever the reason. At least he wasn’t as scarred as he’d used to be, and in a lot better health—that was something. Well, except the brain damage. But he had the RT for that. “I got my fill of looking for now. C’mere.”

 

Tony didn’t need any further urging, he came around the bed and Steve scooted over, holding back the covers and making room for him. Tony wrapped one arm around Steve’s shoulders, and Steve sighed contentedly and lay down, rested his head against Tony’s shoulder and curved his arm around Tony’s waist, snugging it around his back and tugging him close, settling him in against his body. Tony smiled, stroked his fingers through Steve’s hair.

 

“Arranged me to your satisfaction?” he asked.

 

“Yes, sir,” Steve murmured, eyes bright with mischief when he looked up at him. “Got you right where I want you.” He leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s chest.

 

Tony smiled, curled his fingers through Steve’s short hair a little more. “Oh, do you,” he said. “Right where you want me.”

 

“Yep,” Steve said, and closed his eyes. “Not getting away now.”

 

“Why would I want to get away?” Tony asked, smiling down at him. “I’m right where I want to be.”

 

Steve opened his eyes a little, looked up at him, and then smiled, and looked down, eyelashes flicking down over his eyes. “Good,” he said softly, and pillowed his head on Tony’s chest again, still holding him close, practically draped around him. All snuggled close like this, it was like being caught up in some warm, muscley cloud. Tony’s personal bed-warmer, he thought to himself, and smiled, laying his cheek down on top of Steve’s head, shifting until it was comfortable, his fingers still curled in Steve’s hair, against the back of his neck. Steve sighed happily, again, and relaxed, so that was good. He looked down, over Steve’s back, couldn’t keep himself from running his thumb over the bruises on his shoulder again, brushing the darkening skin gently. He wondered how long they would last. He swallowed, tucked his lips in against Steve’s hair.

 

“Tony,” Steve huffed low against the skin of his chest, and Tony flattened his palm over the bruise.

 

“Let me figure it out my own way, sugar,” Tony murmured.

 

“Just as long as you’re not gonna beat yourself up about it, you can touch ‘em as much as you want,” Steve mumbled without raising his head. Tony fit his fingers over the bruises at the back of Steve’s neck.

 

“All right,” he said, and managed a slight smile, tracing his fingers down the side of Steve’s neck a bit. He didn’t know why he had trouble with it, really. He didn’t mind one bit if Steve left bruises on him. Even kind of liked it, feeling, seeing them after. He didn’t much appreciate pain generally, but even sometimes for him it could add a little bit of an . . . edge, and Steve’s big hands biting into his hips or thighs or shoulders—yeah. But Steve bruised so infrequently, and—maybe it just felt wrong to him, marking that perfect, resilient skin. Leaving his marks all over it. It felt so intentional, not like how it felt when Steve got a little bit rough with _him_.

 

He’d get it, he thought. Maybe it would always feel a little wrong, to _hurt_ Steve on purpose like that, but he could handle it. He loved seeing Steve react to it, which was a powerful incentive. And the trust of it always hit him in the gut, every time—he wouldn’t have traded that for anything. He could be strong enough for that.

 

And the bruises looked kind of good, darkening up Steve’s skin like that, he could see that. Maybe he could figure it out eventually.

 

“Lights down,” he murmured, and rested his hand at the back of Steve’s neck again, stroking a little absently, mostly with his thumb. Steve moved his arm up a little more, pressed his face down into Tony’s chest and pulled him closer. It was nice, to be held so close. That Steve wanted to be so close. It was nice, just lying like this. Tony thought just having this, just sometimes, would be enough, for the rest of his life, to make him happy. And he had so much more than that it was almost overwhelming—so why did he still spend so much time worrying?

 

He was happy now. As peaceful and content as he had ever felt. It was only early evening, and he should be up, doing something, working, but there was no way he was leaving Steve to sleep on his own after something like that. He was exactly where he should be. Tony felt a wave of—well, love for Steve, soft and warm and intense and aching, well up inside of him, and smiled a little, looking down at Steve’s noble profile and strong jaw where it was all smushed up against his own chest, blond hair just dimly pale in the low light falling into his eyes as much as it could when it was still so short. Steve was breathing evenly, his eyes closed, though his arm was still strong at Tony’s back, not heavy and limp like it would be if he were asleep. But then, he still held Tony close sometimes, even when he was fast asleep.

 

Tony pulled the blankets up over them a little more, tucked them in around Steve’s shoulders, curled his other arm against Steve’s shoulder, settled in to watch Steve sleep for a while, and he thought he saw Steve smile as he pressed closer into Tony’s chest.


End file.
